The Stranger
by Virtue
Summary: Celes/Locke Oneshot series. Epilogue: The world was full of lost children, herself included. COMPLETE.
1. The Stranger

**The Stranger**

* * *

 **A/N:** During a long overdue playthrough I fell in love with these two. Thanks for reading!

* * *

" _But I'm still your friend..."_

The brisk air of an early autumn night chilled him as Celes rebuffed him.

She was _never_ a spy, despite the rumors and stray accusations among the Returners, and he, in a moment of weakness failed to believe in her.

Celes stiffened at his words and turned from him. Locke wasn't even granted the icy glare she was undoubtedly wearing for him; instead he only saw the cascading pale blonde tendrils that flowed about her waist as she walked away, her form disappearing into the night.

It stung when he saw her earlier that day as she pretended to be a stranger to him. Mayeb it was the fact that she looked the healthiest he'd ever seen her; her cheeks were filled in with color and she appeared broader, stronger. Her eyes no longer carried dark circles and her hair even looked shinier, glinting like gold in the moonlight, rather than the gnarled braid she'd sport after several days on the road without a bath.

She was surely getting fed by the Empire better than she had been during her time with the Returners, and resuming her former trainer regimen. It showed.

He called her name.

Celes continued to walk faster now, her feet quick and light down the stairs until she disappeared from him completely.

He wanted to follow her, to grab her by the arm and spin her around and demand that she look at him and acknowledge him. If he were a different man, then perhaps he would.

Instead he only watched what remained of her form and cursed under his breath, the night breeze stirring goosebumps on his flesh.

Locke missed her. Traitor or not, he wanted her company again. Her low and firm voice that commanded attention also bore her dry sense of humor that could make him erupt in laughter, or describe subtle observations about people that even he didn't notice at first.

He inhaled deeply, slowly releasing the air in his lungs. He had a long ship ride ahead of him in the morning, but he knew the night wouldn't let him sleep. Not yet.

Locke walked to the pub instead, hands shakily moving to his pockets, chin dipped to his chest.

The memory of the siege on Narshe swirled in his mind.

* * *

He an Celes had been paired off together, as they'd spent quite a bit of battles on the road fighting back to back. The snow had cast a fierce glare in the sunlight, causing his eyes to burn and squint. Celes moved around him like a whirlwind, her hair swinging in the opposite the direction of her sword. Ice emerged from the ground at her command, causing their foes to shriek and their machinery to malfunction.

She'd looked back at him then, blue eyes serene in the midst of battle, lips parted. She was quick, though not faster than him.

A beast overcame her from behind, pinning her to the ground before she could react. Locke dove, and using his body as leverage as he wrapped his arms around the creature to knock it sideways, sinking a knife into it's chest as it clenched his arms with it's teeth amidst a shrill howl.

"Hold still."

They sat afterwards in a house offered to them by a sympathizer. They were in the kitchen alone, Celes hovering over him on a stool as he sat at the kitchen table, arm outstretched and she worked at him with a pair of tweezers.

He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, being as obedient as he could.

"I don't think there's anything there." He seethed through clenched teeth.

"There's a reason your wound isn't closing after I cast cure on it multiple times." She replied matter of factly.

Her eyes narrowed. She braced his forearm with one hand, almost numbing him with her icy palm. Her other arm controlled the tweezers tediously, raising and lowering her elbow to adjust to the angle she needed.

There was something in his arm that Celes was palpating. And he could feel every inch of it through a gritted jaw.

"A ha."

She pulled the tweezers from him, revealing the troublesome tooth that had lodged in his arm after he pulled the beast from her.

He exhaled in relief. If she continued much longer he wasn't sure how he could bare it without tears.

"You want to keep it?" She asked him teasingly, one eyebrow raised.

Locke chuckled. "Keep it? For what?"

Celes shrugged, dropping the tooth into the table. "Sometimes my men kept trophies like this."

He mustered a witty response that he could no longer recall, but he did remember how a rare small crept upon her lips and she cast a healing spell upon him.

Warm light resonated from her hands, overpowering his pain until it was nothing more than a tingle. More than anything, Locke was relieved it was over with without him forming tears as a result.

Her hair was still wet from her bath after the battle, neatly combed strands clinging together over her shoulders. Her eyelashes stuck together in a similar fashion.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

He wished he knew what was going through her mind as she looked at him then.

Her expression was peaceful and relaxed: no furrowed brows and stern grimaces.

He only looked back to her. A hand steadily trailed up his bare arm.

"Celes-"

He started to speak her name before she leaned down from her stool and kissed him. He froze for a moment, almost withdrawing his lips from hers in shock. Her fingertips were all along his jawline now, and he felt her close her lips and swallow, whether it was out of hesitation or nerves he didn't know, but looking back he wanted to.

He wanted to know if she hesitated.

Locke snaked his fingers to the back of her head, tangling his long, nimble fingers in the strands of her damp hair as he pressed his lips to hers again. She responded eagerly and moved a hand to his neck, hovering over a harsh pulse there.

The air was still and the clock continued ticking.

She was bold and he was willing, and when they parted she looked at him for a moment, before pushing the stool back with her toes and leaving him in the kitchen alone with a tray on the table baring the tweezers and the tooth.

* * *

Sitting at the bar, he contemplated the kiss.

Dawn would come in a few hours, and tomorrow he would likely face Celes again as a stranger.

The ice in his glass clinked as he finished the last of his drink, waving the bartender over for a refill.

The heartache was all too familiar to him; he'd seen the rejection in Rachel's amnesiac eyes when she sent him away. He obeyed then, and the girl was now a corpse in suspended animation; a ghost that haunted him in the flesh.

Locke betrayed Celes with his doubt, and the result fed a physical pain in his chest.

He loved her.


	2. Downriver

**The Stranger**

* * *

The back of her throat burned as the cool water washed over it, causing her to cough and gasp, gripping the canteen in shaky hands. They were still weak with lack of circulation from the tight iron shackles.

Her savior cast a nervous look over his shoulder and back at her, bringing a finger to his lips.

" _Let's go."_ He said in a hushed whisper.

Celes obliged, taking another gulp of the liquid and wincing at it went down. A day or so of torture had done a number on her. She was covered in her own filth, stripped of her own armor and dignity.

He pulled her to her feet and she did her best to keep up with his pace, prompting Locke to fetch the key from her sleeping guard.

She had a horrible limp, favoring her right side and swatting Locke's hand away when he attempted to steady her. It wasn't ideal, having to be rescued by a man from the rebel faction, but she had little choice in the name of survival.

As she hobbled to the hall Locke reached into his side pocket, tossing her two vials of potion. "At least take these," He said in a low voice, "We'll won't get outta here with you gimping like that."

She shot him a cold look, but obediently took the caps off the vials and swallowed the contents.

She eyed the man suspiciously. Was this some elaborate psychological torture scheme dreamt up by Kefka? She knew the methods that creep endorsed when it came to those he set his sight upon.

Locke had platinum blonde hair, lighter than her own, and soft brown eyes that had a certain kindness in them. He held a benevolence framed by sharp features and defined cheekbones. She summed up that he was at least trustworthy enough to rely on this one time.

"Water." She commanded in a hushed tone.

He nodded, passing the canteen back to her. She pretended not to notice him scanning her for a similarly detailed evaluation.

Celes drank that water, self conscious enough to hide how eager she was for the wetness to quench her dry tissues.

She had no armor. She had no weapon. But she did the best she could, summoning her magic to aid him as best she could against the stray soldiers who encountered them in the cellars.

After their first kill she patted down the soldier's body, quietly turning to Locke to offer him several coins she found on the corpse. She then pulled a sword from the ground where he fell, standing and observing it closely in the dim light. It felt odd, looting the corpse of one of the men she used to command. But he was also one of the men stationed here to contain her, and possibly to escort her to her execution.

Locke wasn't the typical wanderer, she could tell by the way he knelt down and turned the man on his side, fingers feeling briskly under the armor, knocking several glass vials to the ground with several _clinks_ as he did so.

"You Imperials always carry more than you look like you are." He noted to her somewhat humorously, pocketing the vials in his jacket. "This will come in handy. It'll be a while before I get you to an inn."

They climbed a staircase. The air was getting progressively less stagnate as the ascended.

She huffed, clutching her side in one hand and her newly acquired sword in the other.

"Those hunger cramps are killin' you, huh?" Locke observed, "I'll get you something good when we're far enough away to start a fire."

It was true it had been a while since she had a meal, other than the piss her captors forced her to drink.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked weakly.

The were paused in front of a door, streams of sunlight falling through the cracks, notifying them that they were close to a successful escape.

She studied him as he hesitated, dark eyes flitting from one of hers to the other.

"Because you remind me of someone."

 _'Someone?'_

* * *

They made their first camp before midnight. Locke tasked her with cleaning up by a stream while he went to hunt for dinner.

She had no objection, though she felt a little pathetic for relying on him for a meal after he saved her from her captivity. He was her crutch the whole last mile, as she pushed herself beyond what she knew her body would accept as possible exertion.

Celes peeled off her clothing, wincing as some of the fabric separated from her wounds. She rinsed them as best she could in the stream, and hung them on a limb as she bathed.

It was hardly an evening in a spa, but as she dipped her scalp into the water, tilting her body back massaging it with her fingertips, she felt heavenly. Her lips parted and she let out a small gasp of pleasure as water flooded between her hairs, clearing it of debris and blood and sweat.

Several trout splashed around her, and she watched in silence at their antics.

There was a chill in the air, but that rarely affected her. She'd received regular transfusions of magic as a child, and a decreased susceptibility to the elements was one of the perks of being Cid's experiment.

The water swirled around her as it flowed. She splashed it on her face, and in her mouth, swished it and gulped it down, suddenly conscious of how foul her breath must've been.

* * *

Celes returned the the campsite, wringing the rest of the water from her hair and reaching behind her head to tie it in a tight bun behind her head.

Locke already had a fire prepared and a tent pitched.

She stopped when she saw the meal over the fire. Several large trout impaled on spokes, turned carefully over the flames. Locke knelt over them, stripped of his jacket and bandana, leaving over the fire with his white shirt and slacks clinging loosely to him.

His own wet hair clung to his neck, fixed in position.

Anger surged through her. "You were in the _river?_ "

Locke jumped, startled by her presence and dropped the spoke. He brought both hands in the air as if to ease her and she contemplated charging him.

"No!" His eyes were wide.

Celes stopped, furrowing her brow and motioning to the fish. "You clearly were. It was _your_ suggestion that I bathe and you-"

"-I was down stream from you."

Celes' eyes narrowed. "How do you _know?_ "

"I saw where you headed when you left! There wasn't anything good in the area and I decided to fish."

"Do you often fish naked?" She pressed, mildly amused at his discomfort, though still angry that he was in the river with her without her knowledge or consent.

"No! It just seemed that I may as well bathe, since I was already in the water you know?" He paused, but adding lowly, "It made sense at the time."

"You 'may as well?'"

"For your sake."

Celes took another step toward him ominously. He flinched.

"You're the one that has to smell me, you know." He continued.

He was coy as he was charming, she had to give him that. But she didn't see any indication that he was seeking to invade her privacy in any way; he seemed genuine.

"Alright, then." Celes walked slowly to the fire, easing herself down and flinching a little as her joints protested such movement.

Locke jumped up to help her, but recoiled as she shot him a glance.

He wasn't like any other man she met. The soldiers under her command respected her because they had to, but the second she was denounced by the Empire they locked her in a basement room with sadistic guards that found pleasure in her humiliation and pain. Locke was a foreigner with no debt to her who came to her aid, and so far asked for nothing in return.

He would undoubtedly ask her to join his little rebellion. If anything, it would be a suggestion with an air of benevolence. He had to have known that a disgraced former General was being kept beneath the great house in South Figaro.

It couldn't have been an accident they met.

"I was down river. There was no way I could see anything if I _wanted_ to." He looked at her, pleading for her trust.


	3. Bristle Hole

Part 3

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A/N: Thank you to the readers and reviews so far! I apologize for any grammatical errors- I know they really annoy me when I'm reading something. I have to blame the wine though, it makes the words flow but does not make me a very effective proof reader apparently!

* * *

Locke had seen the rain in the desert only once, during his first trek south from Narshe to South Figaro.

It happened in the same town he and Celes stopped in on their way back up north to Narshe. The sun gave no warning, blaring down on the duo as they made their way in the oasis town of Bristle Hole.

Celes had torn a long strip of fabric from the hem of her prisoner tunic. The thin white fabric was made grey from their travels, and stained with brown patches from the blood of her wounds. She wore it wrapped around her head and face, only leaving two almond shaped eyes to Locke's view.

He had pressed her to go further than where she was comfortable. He swore to her there was a town in the desert, away from the prying eyes of the Empire.

And he had proved himself right. It was as simple as leading her over a sand dune, and the glistening waters of the oasis shone back at them.

Celes fell to her knees.

"I was beginning to think you brought me here to kill me." She rasped, her voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Kill you? Don't you think I could've had an easier time doing that some other way?" Locke chuckled at her, feeling somewhat stung by the persistent resistance she'd shown to having faith in him.

"Kefka has some awfully elaborate ways of killing people." She murmured.

Locke stopped from where he strode several paces in front of her.

"Well I don't know what more I could do to convince you," He said shaking his head, "I'm not with Kefka. I'm with the Returners."

He looked over his shoulder at her. It was a chilling sight, seeing her brought to her knees from exhaustion, and the whites of her eyes turned red. He knew better than to help her up, and chose to walk slowly to the town, giving her ample time to stand up on her own and follow him.

He led her to the only inn in town, which wasn't as much of an inn as it was the waterfront home of a wealthy merchant who left his wife in charge as he traveled the world freely. There were only two guestrooms total.

"I only have one room for you Locke," The elderly merchant's wife told him frankly as he tried to talk her into two. "You'll have to make do."

Locke set a generous amount GP onto the table and pushed it over to her, "We'll make do. If you can get my friend here some new clothes with the extra cash."

The wife nodded in Celes' direction. "You poor dear. I'll leave them outside of your bath."

Celes only nodded, her pride had notably suffered serious blows as of late, and she undoubtedly had no shame in letting a little old lady go shopping for her in a town that was all but few shops.

* * *

Locke sat in the room, waiting for Celes to return from the bath. The room was small, but it's furniture was among the finest he had ever stayed among, consisting of a great-sized bed in the center with a sofa, chair, and small armoire arranged around it.

Lock peeled off his jacket, boots, and socks and sank into the plush sofa. A foul odor made him wrinkle his nose and told him he wouldn't fare well to ignore the stench.

He wandered out to the water, socks and boots in tow, his pants rolled up to his knees.

* * *

He saw her, standing on her own out in the water. She was dressed in different clothes, and her hair was several shades lighter than he was accustomed to. It flowed freely in the cool desert breeze, telling him that she had finished her bath quite some time ago.

Locke lowered his belongings and the soap to the ground and he stepped out into the water, his feet tingling as they dipped beneath the surface, wading out to his newfound travel companion.

Celes paid him no attention. From where he stood he could see that her eyes were closed and the water was nearly waist level, lapping at the edges of her new blouse.

She moved her arms at her sides so that her fingertips just barely skirted the water, brushing it ever so slightly.

Locke waded out a little farther. The moon was full, and it cast a silvery cold glow on what would normally be a warm and daunting landscape, broken only by an occasional structure that offered a reflection on the rippled surface of the water hole.

He'd read about the history of this place after his first visit. It's earliest documented appearance being in the dreams of illusions of desperate travelers, always unattainable, yet always in sight.

He moved too fast for her comfort. Her eyes snapped open. Cold, clear blue, narrowed like the point of a spear. Her fingertips emanated ice, freezing the surface of the lake into a solid thin plate that caused him to gasp in pain and surprise as it spread around his thighs.

Celes turned to him abruptly, eyes widening in recognition of the situation.

"Locke," She breathed his name harshly, breaking the ice coating into shards as she did the best she could to run to him. The water melted and swirled around her, appearing white and frothy from the sudden changes in state under the glow of the moonlight.

He shuddered, stepping back slowly so that he was out of the lake completely by the time she approached him.

"I-I'm sorry," She stammered, "I didn't know you were there."

Her eyes were wide now and apologetic, a look he'd never seen on her before. He continued to shake and his teeth chattered. His arms crossed his chest, mustering body heat for comfort.

"I-It's o-o-kay." He managed. "I s-snuck up on you I-I guess."

Celes looked down at the ground, the ice behind her slowly melting into ripples and swirls of water, flowing freely to any part of the lake.

"Sometimes I meditate and practice. It's been a while and the water was making me nostalgic, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry."

"M-magic makes you nostalgic?" He willed the spasms to stop. He could tell he was making her self conscious with his shock.

 _'Do something natural.'_ He told himself, and forced himself to bend down beside him and grab his dirty articles of clothing and soap and knelt by the lake where she stood.

"The water did, yes."

"Why's that?" He knelt down and dipped a rag into the water to scrub the inner lining of his boots lightly, careful not to let water build up on the interiors.

"Surely you've heard the stories about me?"

"I've heard stories of you, yes." Locke replied honestly, shaking the excess water loose and resuming to gather the rest of his garments.

He saw her wince at the corner of his eye before continuing. She was undoubtedly more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her in their short time together, even more so than the day he rescued her from torture.

"Then you know of my affinity for ice."

Locke smothered a grimace. He'd heard of and seen things in Maranda that could only be her doing.

Still, the woman who stood before him, who lay chained before him in a basement of South Figaro, was entirely different than the demon he'd heard of from villager hearsay. Celes was complicated, with layers that appeared to him with every subtle change in temperature, or so it seemed.

"I've heard of it." He replied cryptically.

She sighed, obviously exasperated at his vagueness.

"I had no choice, Locke. I've never had a choice" She said softly.

He continued to work, mildly delighted by how many shades closer to white his socks appeared to be, and simultaneously saddened by her words. He listened to her in silence.

"I was infused to Magitek technology as a child. I have vague memories of my real parents, I only know they offered me to the Empire for the sake of research."

Locke thought for a moment, feeling her eyes settle on him.

"It sounds like your parents thought they were making a sacrifice for the greater good." He observed matter-of-factly, "I agree that you never had a choice, and I'm sorry for that. But you have a choice now, right?"

"Do you believe that was their reasoning?" She said, hushed now.

"I don't know," He shook his head, wringing out his socks as he stood. "It's just what makes sense in my head. It can't be easy to give your child up forever, right?"

His heart stung when he thought of Rachel. "Or anyone you love, at that."

Locke felt several pelts of moisture hitting his face. He blinked, determining whether it was truly raindrops or Celes' magic. or an illusion that originally gave the Bristle Hole it's allure.

"Celes-"

"I feel it too." She responded. "It wasn't me."

Locke moved quickly, forcing himself to finish recovering from the shock of her ice spell.

"We'd better move quickly, if you want to stay clean." His mind flashed of memories of the first rains he'd witnessed in that land.

They rushed back to the inn, both barefoot, him with his boots ans socks in tow. Within moments the rain fell in a full torrent, as if the sky opened up and emptied a full bucket of water upon the sand. It stuck to their feet like muck, slurping and spilling on the ground.

They entered their room with hushed tones, Locke turning around and giving her the privacy she needed to pull off her wet leggings and retire to the bed before he did the same.

The rain had stopped already, as that was how the rare rains in the desert fell: hard, fast, and ending before one could tell when they began.

Locke dozed off quickly on the sofa, though he woke for a spell briefly in the night when his eyes settled on the sight of her bare spine, it's nodules prominent and smooth. When he was conscious enough to know what he was looking at he turned to face the back of the sofa with it's red fabric instead.

His thoughts wandered to the sight of Celes in the water, elegant and poised. He was correct in confiding that she reminded him of someone he loved dearly, but she was also unlike anyone or anything he'd ever met before. She was strong, but vulnerable in the right light. She could be harsh and crude, but clever and regal. And, he selfishly thought to himself that on the lake she looked beautiful.

He lied to her when he first rescued her in South Figaro. She wasn't like Rachel at all.


	4. Intentions in Narshe

**Part 4**

* * *

Celes had her final transfusion a week after her seventh birthday.

Slow piano music poured through the halls of Cid's extensive laboratory to the small partition where the young girl was treated. She sat calmly, small hands in her lap that nervously played with the hem of her pink dress. She was surrounded by glass bottles of liquid that linked together through glass catheters link to the needle in her arm. She didn't like needles, but she was also accustomed to them. It was the bottles, catheters, and wires that scared her a lot more.

Cid appeared from behind the partition. He smiled at her warmly. "Well, my girl!" He greeted her, "I believe we're done!"

Celes offered a soft smile in response, fidgeting slightly in the chair.

He sat on a stool across from her and rolled so that he was positioned directly in front of her, pulling a stuffed bear from the shelf over her head and offering it to her free hand. She took it and wrapped her arm around it and squeezed as he'd instructed her to do so many times before. He adjusted some dials on the bottles, slowing the rate of the infusions and began the process of remove the needle from her arm.

"I have a surprise for you, you know." He said softly, eyes shooting to hers through his brown bushy eyebrows.

"A surprise?" She repeated, jumping at the sensation of the needle being pulled from under her skin.

"Yes." Cid said, pressing a small gauze to her arm and taping over it, "You deserve it."

Her smile grew.

"Well C'mon now, let's go see." He offered her his hand and she took it as he pulled her from the chair and through the halls.

Her blue eyes grew at the sight of Cid's tanks; they full of monsters and creatures that would twitch and gnash their teeth and swipe at the glass.

"Don't worry about them," He reassured her gently, "They can't hurt you."

Celes walked quietly and looked at her feet instead, letting him lead her along by the hand.

"I've met a lot of children through my work," Cid told her proudly, "None of them were as brave as you, Celes."

They stepped into an elevator. Cid pushed a button and turned a key from his pocket next to it. They were going to her play room.

"You're going to be special."

Celes remained silent. All she could remember was sessions like this in Cid's lab and being told the same thing, it had little meaning to the girl.

The elevator doors opened, and he led her down the hall to her playroom. It was a collective room for all the children Cid studied, but she was the only one left, so it was all hers now.

Cid's surprise towered over he,r front and center of the other toys. It was a large dollhouse, with twelve rooms stacked by fours on top of each other.

Celes let go of Cid's hand and stepped forward to examine the house. The furniture was detailed and pretty. The dining table and chairs carved and painted with swirls of pink, with the emblem of the Empire at the center. Her hands brushed over the set of four dolls in the front room: A father, mother, daughter, and son.

"What do you think? Should we keep it?" Cid asked, amused at the girl's wonder.

"Yes." She held the mother doll, examining the pretty blue dress.

* * *

The sun was setting on Narshe as they approached. Celes was feeling the closest she could to her old self; her steps were smooth and light again. Her bruises had faded some, which Locke took credit for- their third night at camp he'd gathered some bark and boiled it, making a salve that he insisted she put on her injuries.

"Celes."

She paused and spun around to look at her companion, since on the contrary to the beginning of their journey, she could now trail ahead of him.

He huffed, breathing heavily as he cast their gear down and sat on it.

"How are you not winded? I'm more used to this elevation that you should be." He furrowed his brow at her as he took a swig of the canteen.

"Perhaps you're out of shape." She said matter-of-factly. Her eyes flashed to his so that he would see it was a tease. They had established a subtle sense of ease she hadn't had with anyone that she could remember.

"Yeah." He smiled and shook his head and panted, "Good thing I have you to protect me out here right?" He was scratching a spot on his back under his jacket.

"You want to talk now?" She cut the playful conversation short with the blunt question.

"Yeah," Locke answered, pulling his arm back from under his jacket.

"Before we enter the city."

Her lips were pursed in a straight line. She knew where this was going. Locke had mentioned what his intentions were when they got to Narshe, though he never directly asked her what hers were, only giving her vague hints to choose for herself.

"If the Empire attacks while we're here, you'll be caught in the middle. I just want to make sure you don't get pulled into something because of me... you don't owe me anything."

She said nothing, walking over to him and slowly squatted down beside him.

"I'm a traitor to the Empire, remember?" She said dryly.

His dark eyes stared back at her, almost appearing hazel from the brilliant reflection of the snow. "So I've heard. But it's your home."

"They took me from my family before I could speak, infused me with magic without my knowledge or consent, they put me on a pedestal and made me their soldier, and yet when I expressed any sort of thought that was my own they declared me a traitor, so they chained me in a basement and sentenced me to death." She practically spit when she talked, feeling her nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Let them come and face me beside you and your comrades." She finished finally, looking back at him as he listened to her.

Locke nodded. "Okay." He paused for a moment and smiled, as if contemplating carefully what he was going to say next. "I was hoping you'd want to help us."

She supposed a normal girl would have swooned at his kindness and his smiles, but she was too anxious to enter the city and get things moving to swoon.

* * *

Celes knew there would come a day when she would face the ones who suffered at the hands of her sins, but she wasn't quite ready.

She stood in the Elder's house, Locke by her side as Cyan bellowed at her about Maranda. Her eyelashes fluttered shut and then opened again slowly. In reality, he was outraged about Maranda itself, but he had no idea of the depth of evil that was poured into that plot, executed by her. The poor villagers from the outskirts she paid to conduct sabotage and gain information prior to killing them, the wine that was poured in her honor as Kefka and Gestahl laughed at the pathetic results of the slaughter.

She was a good killer, but she was tired of it.

This battle was different. Her participation was her choice, and her opponent was actually one that she viewed as her enemy. Her kills were vexing and it showed in her stamina as she launched herself at Kefka.

* * *

She and Locke hadn't spoken much about their history or pasts; she got the sense that he was just as guarded to her as she was to him. Their conversations on the road consisted more of silly games he'd play or shallow observances of the world around them.

He was insecure and defensive of certain things, she noticed for the first time when she picked up his blade at camp and eyed the length of it.

"This is a fine blade for a thief." She noted and he sprung forward and nimbly snatched it from her.

"I'm not a thief!"He told her humorlessly as he sheathed it in some hidden pocket beneath his jacket. The contradiction between the action and his words amused her.

"I suppose South Figaro was the first basement you've infiltrated? The first time you swindled a key was from the guard who was keeping me? And I was the first woman you professed your will to protect?"

The last sentence caused him to visibly stiffen. He was silent. Celes noted it to be the onset of some painful memory and dropped the subject.

* * *

Celes closed the door to the house and leaned against it desperately, as if willing herself to forget the man who was inside.

 _She'd kissed him._ Her heart pounded in her chest and her muscles tensed. She was embarrassed and confused, thinking how she never wanted to see him again but did not want to part from his company at the same time. She wasn't impulsive; she'd been trained better than that.

Every action must have a deliberate purpose, so what was the purpose of a kiss? She'd had several such encounters with men before, some gone further than such a simple act.

His companions' words swirled around her, haunting her, leading her to believe that theyplayed some part in such an emotional outburst.

But he kissed her back.

She shook the thought, immediately willing herself to forget it ever happened.

"Celes?"

Her head shot to her right shoulder in the direction of the familiar voice. It was the King Edgar, a man she'd met previously at an engagement between Figaro and the Empire. Rumors of him wandering off with a diplomat's wife had dominated the entire affair, leaving many within the Empire with a sour taste of the man.

"Are you alright?"

Celes shrugged, doing her best to calm her nerves. "I-I'm fine. I was just resting, is all."

Edgar's eyes shot to the window of the home, knowingly observing Locke at a table alone, bandaging his own wound.

"I see. I was headed to the Elder's house. He's hosting a little celebration for us before you all head out tomorrow."

"I thought we should leave soon to track Terra." She replied, reluctantly following him as he motioned for her to do so.

"We won't be be any good to her if we don't make it out of the mountain range. Have you ever traversed such terrain after dark? It's not good."

His eyes settled on her unnervingly as he opened to door to the great house, motioning for her to go inside. "You looked-er you did great today, General Celes."

She said nothing, unsure of what to make of his attempt at flirtations.

She found herself in a mildly more friendly atmosphere than she had earlier. The elder had prepared mulled wine over the fireplace and the air was filled with the musk of dark spices like cinnamon and cloves and the sweet scent of preserved fruits over flame.

The townspeople drifted in and approached her, shook her hand, and thanked her for her service. It was an odd outside the crowd of Gestahl's inner circle who would do the same while making sadistic jokes about townspeople such as this.

Locke entered sometime later, helping himself to the warm wine and brandy in his cup as he embraced several familiar people around the room.

She watched him, sipping the drink from her mug and self consciously moving her eyes away when he caught her gaze.

It was too late. He crossed the room, dividing a path through the growing group of people.

"Hey." He said, stopping in front of her to pick a spot beside her on the bench where she sat alone.

"Hey." She responded curtly, refusing to make eye contact.

An awkward silence passed.

"I'm sorry about before. It was- I was confused. I'm sorry." She stumbled over her words like bubbles in a brook.

"Hey, don't be sorry." He chuckled, bringing his mug to his lips again before coyly adding, "I have that affect on women. It's not _your_ fault."

She rolled her eyes and snorted at his simple and feigned pompousness. He didn't appear to think much of it, and for that she felt incredibly relieved and somewhat hurt.

"Tomorrow we head out for Kohlingen." He changed the subject.

"I've never been." She replied.

"No? I grew up there after my dad passed away. I haven't been back in a while."

She sat in silence beside him, contemplating how she didn't know any of the information he'd just disclosed. She was grateful she'd never touched Kohlingen the way she had Maranda.

They sat there for the duration of the evening, side by side, sipping on their mugs and exchanging small talk with strangers. She was as tense as ever, but something about her newfound identity helped her feel more at ease.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the feedback so far! I love this couple but I'm trying to to tie more of the ensemble cast into these one shots. I'm glad I got this chapter done so quickly because I'm going to be moving across country for my job in the next few days and it'll be a little bit before I'm settled enough to update!


	5. How the Night Came to Be

**How the Night Came to Be**

* * *

Locke leaned over her, his hand closed over hers on her chest. Rachel was so lifelike, with the dew on the skin over her freckled nose, her pink lips and cheeks, and her dark, thick eyelashes that framed what he missed most when he visited her.

It was here he allowed himself to pour through the memories of her. Their first kiss happened in the woods behind this house- she'd sneak out in the night to see him and he'd take her to the lake in the woods.

He'd pull off his clothes, leaving his underwear and jump in, causing her to laugh and squeal as he splashed at her and begged her to join him. It took several nights, but eventually she followed suit.

There was a summer of hazy night like this, when the cicadas sang and the nightflowers bloomed. It took him several nights of her joining him in the lake for him to gather the nerve to pull her against him and kiss her.

She was shy, hesitating at first and looking back at him, her ebony hair sealed to the back of her head from the water. The next night she allowed him to kiss her longer, until she gathered the courage to pull him by the bare shoulders and cup his jaw and neck when he leaned into her- which was beginning to happen a lot.

They'd swim like that until dawn, splashing and jumping and talking. Rachel would cling to his shoulders and wrap her legs around his waist, her corset pushed against his chest with her hair moving around him, darker than the black water of the night.

Their faces were wet and their kisses were messy, but neither seemed to mind. His eyes were closed as he took in every sensation of her, the light squeeze of her thighs, her arms around his neck, her hair brushed his sides in the water like silk ribbons.

" _Locke..."_

* * *

He now lay in a clearing nearby, where the grass was somewhat short from the dense growth of nightflowers that choke it at the root. He lay on his back, arms stretched out leisurely above his head. How many nights did he retreat to this forest? It was the place where he wasn't simply the foreigner son of a vagrant. He was exactly what he wanted to be.

Celes approached him on his right, emerging from the treeline. Her skin had gone several shades darker from their travels in the sun and her clothes from Bristle Hole had collected stubborn dust on the road, but in the moonlight she appeared pale and ethereal- like a ghost.

"I was told I would find you here." She said softly, settling down in the grass next to him. She crossed her ankles, boots resting one on top of the other, towering over him from where he lay with his back pressed to the ground.

Kohlingen had a physical effect on him sometimes. It was as if Rachel would smile from the earth, infecting the ground and the air around him. He would breathe her through his lungs and no amount of exhalation could purge her from his mind.

Contrary to what most people insisted, Rachel wasn't a ghost; she was a young girl asleep in the ground, but she wasn't buried; she was asleep.

" _Who_ told you to find me here?" He muttered in mock offense.

"Pete."

"I'm surprised hetalked to you." Locke pondered, for a moment. "He never used to talk to pretty girls."

Celes ignored the indirect compliment. "What would he do instead? Run away?"

Locke chuckled. The night breeze rustled through the foliage and the crickets and cicedas were in full chorus. He looked up at her, propped up on her elbows now. Her hair felt to the grass and the dirt, mixing with it with every slight movement of her neck.

"Yeah, pretty much."

The sound of her amusement, however slight, calmed him.

"It must've been so nice to grow up here. So quiet." He heard Celes observe aloud. She kicked her foot rhythmically at the ground.

She wasn't wrong in her assumption. It _was_ a nice place to grow up, before being touched by the Empire.

"Sure. I didn't live here until I was a kid, but it's still a hometown if I have one, I guess."

"Sometimes home is in the context of people, not places." She mused.

Locke mulled her words over in his head. He had no doubt she'd heard the stories about Rachel today.

Celes found him earlier, in the cellar of the house on the outskirts of town as he sat at Rachel's bedside, squeezing her small hand with tears welled in his eyes. Celes descended the staircase slowly, eyes wide and lips parted in puzzlement at the thickly stagnant room of flowers and death.

Locke didn't speak; he couldn't. They looked at one another for a moment, though it seemed like much longer. Her blue eyes were full of shock, then inquisitiveness, then realization and despair.

She stepped into the dim light of the cellar gracefully, hand leaving it's clutch on the hilt of her sword and falling to the swing of her side instead. It was odd, looking at Celes in the same room as he and Rachel. She looked out of place, like a character from a story cast into the pages of another where she didn't belong.

He found himself in this clearing sometime later. It was the place he'd gone in his early youth to think, or to nap without the prying eyes of the villagers upon him.

He enjoyed the quiet hum of the forest, and the fact that he could lay in silence with Celes and close his eyes without the burden of continuing conversation. She understood the value of silence, perhaps more than he did.

"You're right." Locke said at last, pulling himself from his reverie. "So where's home for you now then, Chere?"

He looked up at her, arms crossed behind his head. He watched her smile tightly in more like a grimace, then look down at the ground with lips pressed in a flat line.

"I'm not sure."

Her words made him feel sad, and he immediately cursed himself for bringing such unpleasant thoughts to her attention. Whatever home she once had had turned on her and put her in chains.

His protectiveness of her had evolved. He consulted with her on the road about different routes, learned her flow in fighting. And under the night sky when he thought that what he wanted more than anything in the world was to be alone, Celes appeared and made him grateful she was there.

And when she kissed him, he could feel his heart swell in his chest.

He pushed the thought away immediately.

"I suppose after this is all over, I can worry about finding a 'home.' I've just never thought about it before." Celes continued.

The memory of meeting Celes greeted him darkly and he fell silent. He felt silly for being so dismissive of having a childhood in Kohlingen when she had the past that she did. But then again, there were many things about Celes that paled him in comparison.

A pang of guilt followed that thought.

"I cannot let myself be ignorant to my role in what happened here. To you. " She spoke with ferocity. "There's a brilliant scientist back in Vector. He's the one who... altered me as a child. I think he could help."

Locke rolled back, his shoulder blade hitting a rock particularly hard, sending pain shooting down towards his elbow. He cursed and rubbed the appendage soothingly. He was skeptical of her faith in a man employed by the Empire.

"We'll figure it out. I have a couple leads of my own."

They lay in silence again, listening to the hum of the nocturnal forest. The nightflowers were fragrant, casting perfume into the air of the night.

"His name is Cid," Celes finally spoke again, her eyes warm as she recalled some distant memory. "And he told me this story of how the night came to be."

"Oh yeah? How does it go?"

" _There were two twin siblings, Porom and Palom. They traveled the world together, discovering sights and smells, battling beasts, and partaking of the flavors and pleasures of foreign lands._

 _One day Porom discovered Palom laying under a tree. He was still, his eyes open and fixed up at the sky. Porom spoke to him, but he did not blink or move. She called his name louder, but he did not move. She shook him frantically, but he did not move._

 _Porom took to the skies, pleading with the gods above to wake him, and they opened to tell her, 'We cannot. For Palom has died today.'_

 _Porom did not know death. She cried at the gods, attempting to bargain for more time with him. Her tears flooded the streams and the oceans, and in her grief she could no longer delight in the world she had once known._

 _So the gods took the sun, and cast the world in darkness. They filled the skies with stars and the moon, and they called this 'night'. And Porom continued to mourn._

 _Then at last the sun returned and the night was over. Under the rays of warmth, Porom's tears slowed. The passage of the night had eased her grief. She picked up her traveling stick and left Palom where he lay under the tree, declaring 'Palum died yesterday.'"_

Locke listened quietly, unable to keep himself from smiling at the thought of Celes as a child receiving a bedtime story. He caught her eyes darting to his, and from her expression he knew she begged the question:

 _'Why are you smiling?'_

But she didn't ask, so he didn't answer.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the reads/follows/favorites/reviews so far! This chapter was really hard for some reason- aside from moving across country this week for my job, I wanted to do something on Kohlingen, but just couldn't reconcile how I wanted it to go. I scrapped and rescrapped this chapter so many times, the original draft being much closer to the scenes we witness in the game, and then the end product was so much different than I originally intended. I wanted to focus a little more Locke/Rachel in this chapter because I believe it directly impacts how Locke relates to Celes. And it was just hard to decide how I wanted to do that.

The story Celes tells is not mine, it's from a Hindu story, 'How the Night Came Into Being." I just inserted the names of the twins from FFIV for fun!

I will hopefully get the next one up in the next few days!


	6. Concussion

**Concussion**

A/N:Violence warning.

* * *

The view from the balcony was less than appealing. Zozo was a run down city surrounded by towns of aristocracy, potentially a once promising industrial investment gone wrong.

" _Not the inn."_ Locke had halted the group when they came into town.

He led them to one of the quieter towers instead, though that didn't mean much as prostitutes and thugs roamed the halls.

They had settled in a dusty old flat, the furnishings infested with decay and mildew. The air outside was incredibly damp from the torrents of rain that plagued the town, as if the skies themselves were attempting to cleanse the city of it's corpses and sin.

Celes was attacked the first night.

* * *

A man descended on her from the awning above an abandoned shop, startling her as another came from behind, nimbly pulling her sword from her reach as he held a knife to her throat. It was premeditated and she was unprepared.

She conjured Ice, causing the man at her throat to squeal and recoil, as the one in front of her hooked a punch directly into her temple.

" _This is one of them Magitek bitches!"_ The squealer declared, recovering all too quickly from her magic.

The two men were stronger than normal, and her vision blurred from the impact as she steadied herself. Her eyes scanned the saturated ground to find her sword in a puddle by an old pillar. She dove for it, dodging another blow from the thug as she did so, landing rather ungracefully on her side.

The thugs were quicker than her, and another blow to her temple made her ears ring.

Her heart pounded in her chest and the dull ache of a concussion set in. Her sword was just out of her reach, but she had given up on that now. It'd been a while since she put any sort of hand to hand combat to use.

She rolled to her side, dodging another blow. She pivoted herself off the ground in an attempt to get up when a hard kick met her ribs, sending her back to the ground.

" _Stay right where you are, pretty girl!"_ The squealer exclaimed, and he pinned her down as she squirmed, attempting to throw him off of her with momentum from her hips.

She conjured Ice again, and utilized the the moment of shock from the man to get her dominant arm loose to take a swing, but the other man stomped kicked her in the head, causing her to cry out as the man straddling her overpowered her again.

She felt blood on her face. Not all of it was her own as the attacker that straddled her had a significant amount of blood oozing from his nose now from her retaliation.

He eyed her with a maniacal grin. _"I like you."_ He croaked, _"I knew you'd be fun when I watched you earlier."_ His breath hit her like a train, even through the heavy fall of rain she could almost taste the foulness of it.

She attempted the conjure another spell, but was met with yet another blow to the face causing her to break concentration. The second man took over pinning her arms as she felt the other cutting open her blouse as she screamed out.

The sensation made her recall something.

The right sleeve of her blouse was rigged with one of Locke's knives, something he offered her once on the road, which made her laugh.

Despite her skepticism, Locke had fixed the holster to her sleeve, his fingers nimble and coarse against her skin.

"You didn't offer Sabin a thief's knife." She had observed teasingly.

"People look at Sabin and they see Sabin," Locke had told her. "I don't think you'll have that same luxury everywhere."

Celes had another weapon, one that her attackers were too distracted to notice, and it was currently being pressed up her arm, the tip of the knife barely nicking her skin.

She'd have to come up with a surprise. She'd have to be fast.

She willed herself to relax her muscles, to convince them that they'd won in this sick hunting game they were playing. It wasn't an easy feat, as the man over her kissed her roughly on the lips and ran his tongue and teeth over her neck.

" _Nice rack."_ He slurred against her skin.

Perhaps it was rage, or perhaps she knew intuitively that it was the right moment, but she slowly turned her head to the arm of the man pinning her, and bit down on his flesh as hard as he could. The act caused him to scream and release her long enough for her to have her hands free to eject Locke's knife from the holster.

It all happened so quickly that by the time the man who straddled her took notice, she had sank the blade into his back, ensuring that she twisted it enough to lacerate his kidney. He howled in pain in response and and she used what strength she had remaining to flip them over with her hips. He bounced against the ground amidst the force of the movement, air escaping his lungs sharply.

His companion had run off at then point, and she hovered over him looking like a madwoman, his blood mixed with hers on her face, coagulating in hard specks where the rain failed to wash it off.

He attempted to swing at her hand with the knife and missed, and she swiftly brought it down on his abdomen with all her might. He howled again, his cries muffled against the hard fall of the rain. She stabbed him a third time, then time pressing her weight against the blade and twisting it.

Her mind was crazed with rage. She missed the lethal points on purpose, feeling satisfied as the rush of warmth of his blood soaking her pants.

She rose slowly, panting heavily with one foot planted on either side of him. She still felt unsteady from the blows to her head and a dull tingle dominated her senses.

She left the thug there, bleeding out into the rain alone. She stumbled back outside the alley to where her sword lay. She stooped down and picked it up by the hilt, suddenly growing aware of her open blouse. She closed it with one hand and held her sword ready in the other.

She shuffled back to the building where they set up accommodation, her vision blurring with tiny dots in her peripherals. Storefront oglers and prostitutes stood in doorways, watching her in quiet reverence. Groups of people fell silent around her as the rain lessened, as if no one dared even a simple catcall from the maddened woman with her sword out covered in blood.

She climbed the staircase one step at a time, balance swaying slightly. She braced herself with the wall of the building.

* * *

Sabin's eyes were wide when she entered the room.

" _Celes! What happened!"_

The boom of his voice stirred the sleeping Locke, who had dozed earlier in the evening before she had left, still with one arm resting about his head and the other on his stomach.

An eye popped open and he jerked up when he saw her as if lightning itself had coursed through his muscles.

Celes pushed Sabin aside weakly as he attempted to brace her. She had gotten concussions before in training, but nothing that physically hampered her this way. She fell against the bathroom door, dropping her sword against the wall and feeling two nimble arms around her, forcing her back into a standing position as she was pulled up by her armpits.

"Sabin- get Gau and have him bring some warm water. Get potions. And an ether. An elixir if you can."

It was Locke's voice. He echoed in her ear as he spoke from behind his shoulder to their companion, bracing her against his front.

She faded as she heard Sabin confirm and leave, and became mildly lucid as Locke walked her slowly to the bathroom. She wanted to let her head roll back and close her eyes but her adrenaline kept her hyperaware of the situation.

She felt a hand on her cheek and opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them. Locke knelt before her, his usual bandana and jacket off, brown eyes boring into her as if searching for any possible clue that she was hesitant to divulge.

"Celes." His voice cracked a little as he said her name. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok? Gau brought some water earlier for baths."

Celes nodded weakly and zoned out again, listening as she heard the sound of water being poured into the tub from buckets. Locke worked quickly, retrieving a tired looking towel from a cupboard and carefully draping it over her front.

Her mind was as hazy as her body was sore. He was careful to loosen bits of her clothing as needed, letting her peel it off however long it took her, gently bracing her as she pushed her pants down and holding the towel around her as best she could.

She was too exhausted by trauma for modesty. She swayed as she stood, feeling pressure in her head as the adrenaline wore off and the swelling set in. The colored dots in her peripherals began to swim to the front of her vision, and the next thing she knew she was lowered into the tub of warm water. Her neck rested on the base of the tub and she didn't stir again until she felt the sting of a soapy washcloth against the wounds on her face.

* * *

She felt water dripping over her hair. Her eyes opened again and she turned her head to the man knelt beside the tub, one arm propped up by an elbow with it's hand squeezing the washcloth over her head while the other rested on the side of the tub. His chin rested next to it. He was the first things her eyes recognized when she woke.

"Hey." He said softly, mustering what she thought was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

"Hey." She whispered, head rolling to face him.

She'd never seen Locke like this, frozen in a repeated motion, eyes sad and distant and full of hundreds of questions that she'd never know.

The supplies. His knife that saved her. She'd left it all behind. Celes gasped in realization, gripping the edges of the tub and pulling herself forward.

His hand at the side of the tub stopped her, resting gingerly over her chest.

"What's wrong?" His eyes were wide as he eased her back down, submerging her upper body again in the water.

She shook her head, grasping his hand tightly. "I lost everything! I left your knife in that man!"

"Good." Locke said. His eyes looking uncharacteristically dark.

She relaxed, unknowingly maintaining her grip on his hand.

"What happened, Celes?" His voice was full of angst and despair like she had never heard before.

"These men, they attacked me. They... were so strong." She ran her tongue over her dry lips, tasting the blood that clotted there. Her mind was a muddled drunken mess and it was mildly frustrating to conjure the words to communicate. "I killed one with your knife before they could do anything. The other got away."

Locke rested his forehead to the tub and exhaled slowly. His pale hair hung in clumps just inches above the water. She reached her hand slowly and ran her fingers through the strands lightly, something she'd never do had she been in her right mind.

The touch caused him to raise his gaze to hers again with a small smile. His eyes shown with what looked to be suppressed tears.

"I-I'm glad you got away. I just wish I was there, you know?"

Celes frowned, taking her hand back into the water. "I don't need you to escort me around. Have you forgotten who I am? Who I _was_?"

"No." He spoke with urgency, "I haven't. I'd _never_ want to forget. I just think you and me together could've caused them the damage they deserved."

Celes watched his confident expression falter slightly, as if contemplating deeply what to say next.

"It's just... there's some bad people in this town. If something else happened I couldn't live with myself."

The stress in his eyes was apparent before, but now shown different intensity like she'd never seen before.

"I know you don't need protection, Celes." He continued at last, eyes looking at hers squarely. "But I know I can make things easier on you. I want to."

Locke grabbed her hand again and she felt her heart accelerate again. She felt drowsy, but didn't dare fall asleep in her state.

"I was just getting supplies."

He smiled softly, visibly relieved. "I know."

"I didn't mean... to cause so much trouble for you and Sabin. We're supposed to be looking for Terra and I feel I've made things so much worse."

"No." Locke's voice was barely above the level of a whisper.

Locke coaxed her out of the tub with a dry towel. He eased her down on the ledge of the tub and gently helped her into the fresh clothes that Sabin had fetched for her. Sadly, anything made for women in Zozo was less than decent, so she was confined to leggings and a small framed man's tunic, but she welcomed the looseness and comfort of clean, dry fabric against her skin.

She protested when Locke soaked a rag in elixir and held it against her wounds, but he gently treated her with it anyway. The warmth from the solution soothed her wounds, and relieved the dull ache in her skull.

As she came to she felt mild embarrassment over Locke seeing her in such a state, and kneeling over her naked body in the tub. She pretended not to relish the feeling of his arm across her back and his grip on her shoulder as he walked her to the bed that their companions had saved for her and eased her down under the covers.

The next thing she remembered was waking to feeling him breathing softly beside her. For a moment she thought him asleep, but as her eyes adjusted in the darkness she realized he was anything but, wide awake and arms crossed at the crook of his neck on top of her covers, eyes up at the ceiling in deep thought.

She would be a liar if she didn't admit to herself that she felt comfort from the ordeal by his presence, but felt immediate guilt rush over her at the thought.

Sometime later, in the still hours of the morning, she felt his lips press against her forehead. She lay still, listening to the rustle of the sheets as he turned away from her.

* * *

A/N: Poor Celes. :/. I debated writing the graphic nature of the first part of the story, but I felt like it was necessary. Celes is tough as nails and I think something like this would be commonplace in Zozo. Next 2 chapters will be lighter!


	7. Aristocracy

**Aristocracy**

* * *

Celes never spoke much of her upbringing, which Locke knew was due to the fact that she felt there wasn't much to tell. She told him once that her parents had given her up at birth for the purpose of Magitek research, but he knew the ways of the Empire enough to know that might not necessarily be the case.

When he saw her in the marketplace in Jidoor, he knew she had aristocratic blood. She moved from stall to stall, observing clothes and armor to replace her temporary clothes they'd obtained back in Zozo.

She had all the physical trademarks of the noblewoman: high cheekbones, long neck and fingers, and a slender build that would've been delicate had she not had the military training and Magitek infusions from such a young age. He wondered about the circumstances of her being relinquished to the hands of the Empire: Was it done willingly, or not? Did she cry? Did her parents cry, or were they even alive for the deed?

As much as Locke enjoyed sharing his inner musings with her, he kept that one to himself, silently rolling a hard candy in his mouth as he walked behind her, listening to her quip sharply back at Sabin's smart remarks about the assortment of dresses an jewlery.

He eyed a string of pearls, inspecting them in passing by rolling them in the palm of his hand with his thumb; they were legit. He thought of how they would look at the crook of her neck and instantly dropped them back on the table as Sabin took notice, feeling guilty at the thought when he reminded himself of Rachel.

How would Celes even react to such a gesture? He brushed the thought off like it never happened, choosing to walk away with his hands in his pockets.

He suppressed a smile later in the evening when Celes, dressed in her newly purchased clothing received an invitation in person to a party at the largest mansion in town, and a halfhearted obligatory extension to a guest of her choice.

Sabin excluded himself quickly, citing a suddenly desperate need to locate Gau as the reason that he relinquish the invitation.

" _You know I'm no good at parties like that."_ Sabin shrugged, as Celes stood between them in silence.

* * *

They stood outside the mansion together as the sun set, watching prominent couples enter under the light of various carriages and gas lanterns.

The women were stunning, Locke hadn't seen such a collection of gene pool prizewinners since he infiltrated a party in Vector the year prior. There was slinky gowns revealing backsides and varying degrees of cleavage, crystal glasses of scotch and wine.

Locke stood beside Celes in the moonlight, looking to her and offering her his arm out of jest and custom.

She took it, which he understood as a challenge, with her hair pulled back in simple plaits gathered into a simple bun that showed of jade earrings he could only guess she had purchased that day.

"We need to learn more about this 'Gambler.'" She said, her voice hard and firm as she bluntly erased any sort of romantic intention that could've existed.

"Whatever you say," He spoke as he was mildly amused as they walked, "I'm not the one who got the invite to this place. As far as I know, I'm only eye candy."

Her eye roll made him smile, and they entered the home moments later, eyed suspiciously by onlookers, causing him to be grateful that he cleaned up as much as he did for the event.

Inside they were treated to a selection of drinks from a silver tray, both accepting a glass of wine graciously.

"You look out of place with the bandana." Celes observed, jerking her chin in the direction of his head.

"Only if you make me look that way. A _real_ lady never points out such fashion flaws in her date: she only suppresses them, and buries them deep, deep inside of her where no one will uncover her real thoughts and opinions." He winked at her, privately taking delight in the raise of her eyebrows.

"I didn't ask to be born a lady, so I never held myself to the standard of acting like one." She said smartly, speaking against her glass as she sipped it so that only he could hear.

"A lady never says such honest things." He rebutted, unable to help a smile from sneaking across his lips.

Celes huffed at him and left him from his perch against the wall by the entrance. They were here to gather leads on an airship, but he'd be damned if he didn't have some entertainment in the process when it involved such a stuffy affair.

"Maria!" A dark-suited man called to her from the stairs, causing the guests to fall silent and turn heads to look at the woman in question: his date, flaxen haired with a simple elegance in her fitted top and pants amidst the contrast of the slinky ballgowns around her. Her eyes widened and her shoulders dropped in the middle of all the sudden attention.

"I-I'm not-" She turned to him in search of assistance, and he could only shrug in response. They were across the room from one another now, and there wasn't much he could do.

" _Go with it."_ He mouthed.

He watched her fumble uncomfortably with the neck of her collar line as she approached the man awkwardly, .

"Are you talking to me?" He read her lips as she approached the middle aged man, wineglass clasped tightly in both hands.

The man gawked at her, letting an obvious one hand raised in retreat. "Sorry, my mistake." Locke observed him say, followed by a "Wow, you could pass for Maria in a heartbeat!"

His mind flashed through distant memories of the famed opera singer that he had previously seen on advertisements: the doe eyed blonde who sang at the opera house. He'd met her once, and it wasn't until now that he could see a resemblance of her in Celes.

He watched as the man slipped an envelope into her hand and she opened the letter gingerly, looking over her shoulder nervously to allow a couple ascending the staircase past her as she read it. She exchanged several more words with the man, and Locke was impressed with her composure. Whatever the content of the envelope held it made her visibly perspire, an observation only he could identify in the faint glisten of her collarbone under the large chandelier.

They locked eyes as he walked up the opposite staircase, visibly signaling her to walk over to him. She ignored him and chose to continue to talk to the man instead, so he walked by himself to the hall filled with paintings.

He scanned the room in his peripherals, with the men in thick coats and the women in dresses, it was no wonder he and Celes tuck out like a sore thumb at their entrance but in their lack of funds and time they had little choice.

"The dame has poor taste," he heard an elderly folk observe as he stood at the base of a painting on the wall, "Wearing men's clothing at an event such as this? Has she no _class?_ "

"Very minimal class." Locke replied loudly, collecting the attention of the small group gathered around him "But great legs. You wouldn't be able to see those in a dress."

He smirked as the man scoffed at the remark, muttering lowly in a tone that even he could not decipher and the group followed with him.

Celes emerged minutes later.

"'The Gambler' we've heard so much about intends to kidnap Maria."

"And you have a startling resemblance to Maria, from what I've heard."

Her eyes narrowed. "How did you hear?-"

"It doesn't matter." He turned to her now, unabashed and proud of her puzzled expression. "We switch you with Maria. You attract the Gambler. We get ourselves an airship."

"It sounds like he's been pining for her for some time I don't think I can fool such a man so easily." She handed Locke the envelope. Looking quickly around him for any evidence of private eyes he read the letter inside:

 _My dear Maria,_

 _I want you for my wife. I'm coming for you..._

 _The Wandering Gambler_

"But if we do get an airship, we'd make it to the Empire in no time." Celes thought aloud.

"Let's set up a meeting with him then." Locke shrugged.

Celes' cheeks were flushed red. Perhaps, it was the wine, or perhaps it was her nerves.

He spotted a man standing behind her, and grabbed her by the waist and spun her so that they were standing opposite from where they had been, pulling her away from the painting entirely. She stiffened, pushing him back lightly in modest retaliation of the act.

"What are you _doing?_ " She hissed.

Her stare could petrify any man. But he promptly leaned into her ear and whispered. _'That guy. In the blue shirt.'_ He paused as her eyes searched the room, now fixated on the right gentleman now focused on approaching a rather timid looking young girl.

 _'He was about to grope you.'_

Celes' eyes widened in shock as she lightly shoved him. "He wouldn't _dare_."

"You're not a general in these parts, milady." Locke replied, jerking his head to the man again, just as the man snuck an arm across a girl's shoulder blades, trailing down to her buttocks and giving them a light squeeze, causing the girl to yelp and tense, obviously unsure of how to react.

"I can't _believe_ that." She said in disgust, her nose wrinkled.

Locke shrugged. "It happens more commonly than you'd think."

She grabbed him by the shoulder. "You never..."

"No," He replied, "I've only done that with girls who established they wanted some sort of you know, contact-"

Her brows furrowed and she walked swiftly past him. He was teasing her, though it wasn't entirely untrue. He'd had many short-lived encounters with young women after Rachel when his charm got the best of him, usually culminating in a circle of self loathing.

"Celes!" He called after her. She spun around, ignoring several prying stares and whispers.

"I think we have all that we need from here." She stated, looking at his feet before her eyes flickered harshly at his face. His mouth opened an closed, puzzled as he sensed an unexpected layer of hurt from her. The truth was, he relished his time alone with her. But she appeared offended by his humor and had taken it out on him by becoming hyper vigilant in her quest to become Maria, which was originally his idea to begin with.

He followed her back to their room at the inn, where Sabin waited for them at the bar.

"You two need to get it over with already." The broad shouldered man said, shaking his head as Celes walked stoically up the stairs to their room.

Locke said nothing, ordering a double to his friend's drink instead of following her.

"I don't know what you mean. But we have an opera starlet to impersonate if we're going to get an airship."

Sabin raised his brow.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was definitely the quickest and most fun to write! I've really been excited to write the next one on the opera itself, since it's one of the most iconic scenes in final fantasy. I have a lot of work hours coming up, so unfortunately it likely won't be finished until next week at the earliest. Thank you for all the reading/reviews so far!


	8. Maria at the Opera (Part I)

**Maria at the Opera Part I**

* * *

A/N: Music inspiration for this chapter: "The Promise" Sturgill Simpson version

* * *

She never thought she'd look like she belonged in a theatre.

The piano music from Cid's library rang in her ears sometimes and she'd hum along, averting the looks from the lot of Returners when she did so.

Cid bought her a violin for her twelfth birthday. She practiced it daily after her combat training, until she finally broke a string and thus ended her ability to play it altogether.

The opera costume fittings were borderline degrading. As the small old seamstress in charge of Maria's wardrobe shook her head at her initial fitting.

"Too skinny. Like a rail. Disgusting. Don't you eat at all, girl?"

Then two days later: "Much too big. What have you been eating to get so big?"

She repeated the words to Locke later that day and he was incredibly amused, eyeing her teasingly and asking, "Yeah, what _have_ you been eating?"

* * *

It had become a nightly ritual now, after a day of fittings and choreography and voice lessons she recited her lines to him aloud on the stage. He was an easier audience than the theatre staff; their flat stares made her panic.

But Locke was so expressive and enthusiastic, and always positive when it came to her. He breathed life into a world that she was ready to cast away. On a day when he was worn from battle and tired from an uncomfortable sleep on a forest floor, he never failed to over her warmth in his expression.

Celes walked to the stage one evening after a fitting. The seamstress had styled the top portion of her hair in a ornately twisted bun to test the look with the dress because, she reasoned, Celes' hair was much too bleached and thin from the sun to mimic Maria's full and golden tendriled look.

" _No one will believe you're Maria at this rate."_ The elderly woman scoffed, shaking her head as Celes sat in front of her facing the mirror, mouth open and unsure of how to respond, other than murmuring:

" _I'm not an opera floozy, that's why."_

The lights on the stage were low, but they still burned her vision as she stood there, facing the seats where the audience would sit.

She stood alone, letting the nerves of the reality of the situation wash over her in a cold chill.

She had a dress rehearsal in several days and couldn't help but to feel intimidated by it all; It was up to her to fool and gambling man into kidnapping her so that they could obtain transport to Vector.

There was so much at stake because she had a bone to pick with that place.

A humanoid figure approached from the back of the room, walking slowly toward the stage. She recognized the figure before the voice.

"I like your hair like that."

Celes could pick out the distinctive smoothness of Locke's voice anywhere. She felt heat on her cheeks and looked to her side, crossing her arms defensively.

"I had a fitting earlier today."

His form grew clearer as she squinted in his direction. He transformed from an outline of a shadow to a man, approaching the stage and fluidly lifting his body by his palms upon it to join her where she stood.

The yellow light flickered behind him when he walked past the line of glare. He appeared like a character from a legend, with beams of gold shimmering behind him, reflecting from the platnium hue of his hair..

"Don't be embarrassed," He reached up in what seemed like a movement to touch the trail of blonde locks the fell over her shoulder, but hesitated awkwardly, resolving to drop his arm back at his side instead. "It looks really nice."

Celes cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed. "You should tell that to the seamstress."

Locke laughed. "That old bat? Doesn't she know you've killed half a bottle of whiskey in her darling Maria's dressing room?"

"Not by myself," Celes laughed as she allowed him to grab her by the arm lead her off the stage. "And there's half a half bottle left. I think I know what you need right now."

* * *

The drinking session had turned to a script read through, as her nerves were getting the best of her even with the looseness that the alcohol gave them. So Locke pulled up a chair with his copy, sitting across from her where she was perched upright on the sofa so that they sat practically knee to knee as they read to one another, passing the bottle back and forth every now and then.

Halfway through the script they were borderline nonsensical, slurring slightly and breaking into laughter every time Locke couldn't thumb to the next page properly or when she preceded her lines with a drunken squint at the page and a: _"Um..."_

He threw his head back and laughed every time, as she focused on the words of the page in front of her.

Celes loosened up on the sofa, leaning back and letting her posture sink into the cushions, subconsciously directing her attention to her long hair, running her fingers over in and twirling it in strands, getting distracted from the task at hand.

"No squall, no cloud, sh-"

"Locke." She spoke, interrupting him mid sentence, "Do you really think I can do this?"

He stopped and let the book down in his lap, leaning forward with his eyes wide as if she'd spoken the most incredulous thing he'd ever heard.

" _Of course,_ Celes. I wouldn't have pulled you into this if I didn't think you'd be good."

"I need the truth." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes, observing for any possible sign of dishonesty. "I-I don't know if I'm a good actor."

"I think you can be." Locke stayed leaning forward, his brown eyes looking at her darkly. "Haven't you ever had to go along with something that you didn't think was right, even for a while?"

Celes thought for a moment, feeling her smile drop to a solemn expression of despair.

Sure, she'd been outspoken on the sins of the Empire, but before that she justified the cruel executions and barbaric campaigns for _years._

She'd seen families separated and placed into cages to await trial for crimes they did not commit, stray dogs picking at the carcasses of the men she'd slain, and stood idly by as Kefka played his twisted games with prisoners, often resulting in them taking their own lives in the most humiliating ways to escape the torture.

She thought of the farmers on the outskirts of Maranda she'd enlisted for her own campaign at Gestahl's command. She knew what she was doing to them, yet she pretended her agenda was different entirely. And more than that, she pretended she was okay with it.

"Yes." She said at last, setting her book down.

Locke was an empath, she knew by his body language around people and by the accuracy in which he read her. She felt how tense her body was and made a conscious effort to relax it again.

"Celes." He said quietly, putting a hand on hers.

"I've done so many things," Celes said, shaking her head for clarity. " _So_ many things that I'm ashamed of."

"Then you can parade around in a silly opera and be damn good at it, right?"

In her drunken haze she just nodded, running both of her hands over her face and through her hair, forgetting it's formal arrangement, getting strands loose and pulled out along the sides of her face.

She pushed her script from her lap and looked at him in the stillness of the twilight's grey lights that shown through her window.

They were both hindered by various remnants of their past, but did that mean that they couldn't find solace in one another, if only for just an evening? She craved it so, as she had been ever since the day he freed her from her chains in the basement of South Figaro. She had been prepared to die; she accepted the fate of never laughing or crying or feeling the touch of a man or _anyone_ who claimed to love her.

Locke gave that all back to her.

She knew he loved another woman: the beaming example of maidenhood and innocence that she could never hope to obtain. But in this moment, there was only her and Locke and the near empty bottle of whiskey.

She'd be a liar if she said she was never attracted to him, as he slept only inches from her at night.

Locke was looking at her now, studying her squarely in the eye as she eased herself forward on the sofa so that her weight was pressed on her palms and he caught her mid movement with his other hand, so that both hands slid from her shoulders to her elbows and hooked gently around them, pulling her lightly to him and kissing her this time, with a stifled urgency that both delighted and terrified her, sharpening her previously dulled senses and igniting an urgency she wasn't aware of.

She kissed him back, responding with a firmness she intended him to know. His lips were soft and gentle against hers. She closed her eyes and met them with an equivalent fervor but in her selfish greed she wanted more, she _needed_ more contact.

This was different from her hesitant encounter with him in Narshe: She now knew his pain and he knew hers, and this physical contact from him numbed all of her from the thrill of it.

He reversed his pressure and slowly joined her on the sofa. Her heart pounded in her chest in realization of where this was going when he gently pushed her back against the cushions as she gripped him by his hair, fingers running through it and causing his bandana to come loose and drop to the floor. She felt his fingertips graze the base of her waist where her blouse was tucked in loosely, before sliding up to where she shoulder blades made bony prominces. She instinctively arched her back against him, inviting him to touch her further and she pushed her breasts against him.

She heard him clumsily murmur something against her lips and she pulled back for a moment, puzzled.

"What?"

"I, ah, nothing." He said, though his eyes looked to be full of questions.

She pulled him to her wordlessly, feeling selfish and vulgar for being with him this way.

She felt his kiss against the pulse in her neck and gasped, partly from feeling her own heartbeat against his lips and partly from a single thrust she felt from his hips, forcing them both to be pressed together as he lay down with her, her breath raising and lowering them both in a quick rhythm from her chest.

She'd been with a man before, but the encounter was always short lived and expressionless beyond the basis of pure physical want. No one saw her as clearly as Locke saw her, and when she felt his kisses against her mouth again and the pressure and heat of his bare skin against her, her toes curled in pleasure and her lips parted.

Surely two drunken fools wouldn't move so perfectly together in an outside view, but in her own mind they moved against each other perfectly, her hips grinding against his and his hands sliding down her back to her buttocks, squeezing roughly as her hands moved over his chest. He was long and lean, but muscular and the two of them fit together perfectly on the sofa.

He was sweet to her as he was greedy, slowly sliding his palms over the length of her body as he kissed her everywhere that he could reach from their cramped position. One hand curled over the bottom of her bare foot, pulling it here and there playfully while the other held her tenderly at the crook of her neck, his thumb tracing the muscles that lined her collarbone.

Celes pulled his lips back to hers while hooking her legs around his hips to force him to move and change their position, so that she sat straddling his lap as she towered over him with her hair falling from the bun in curtains, further isolating them from the outside world.

The sunset cast strange shadows on the walls of the room with it's grey light. The guilt and loathing melted away completely, even if for a little while.

* * *

A/N: Part one done! So I think the opera is a significant part of the story, specifically for Celes and Locke as it's referenced several times throughout the story. When I started this thing I knew it would be logical for them to 'hook up' at some point, probably towards the end after Locke wraps up his deal with Rachel. But after writing several chapters it made sense to me as something that would make the opera special to the both of them, as it adds insult to injury for Celes when Locke doubts her intentions down the road, thus changing her to the cold and distant Celes and yet another event that causes her to spiral downhill. I think in the "realist" realm that I try to write this fic it seems it just made sense!

I originally had several scenes between Celes and other Returners that I really liked at the beginning... but proofreading made me think they didn't belong in this chapter!

Thanks for all the reads/reviews! About to have a busy week, so will hopefully have part II up sometime in the near future!


	9. Maria at the Opera (Part II)

**Maria at the Opera (Part II)**

* * *

Locke imagined that in another life he could've relished her more than just once. She captivated his memories with every curve and knob of her spine, the harsh gasp from her throat and the simple satisfaction of how perfectly his hand fit at the curve of her lower waist.

He'd tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep at the overwhelming feeling of guilt and pain over Rachel as Celes slept a mere few feet away in an adjacent bed.

He went on a search for redemption years ago, seeking out women in distress since Rachel's death, locating them out in bars or brothels or streetwalks. They weren't hard to find either, given that the world appeared so hostile to their gender, something that he'd never taken notice of before.

He never did it for their affections, but selfishly indulged in a few women when the road was too long and he felt too lonely to deny it.

Celes was different. She had already accepted her fate by the time he reached her, broken and ready to die for her sins with a distinctive light of sadness in her eyes. He imagined it was sadness from a distant life she was perhaps bred to have, and didn't because of her family's political affiliations; that was his speculation, of course.

She didn't look to him for consolation the way the others did, she was merely content with being alive another day. She'd sit with him and talk for hours over the campfire or in a pub, and when her blue eyes slid from her hands or her drink to look at him he felt content.

Perhaps that was why he'd fallen for her; she knew of the frailties of life while boasting strength and power. She was the embodiment of the notion, with the hard pulse of her muscles contrasting with the soft curve of her breasts and the long locks of blonde hair that swept over them.

He didn't dare to say that he loved her. Or that he avoided her after they shared that encounter.

* * *

On opening night Celes spun around, her face unfamiliar yet welcome in his eyes. She'd endured at least several sessions of makeup application. Her face appeared pale, yet polished against the basic darkened frame of her eyelashes, making her crystal blue irises appear almost white in the light of the chandelier. Her cheeks were pink, and whether that was from the blush or the sight of him he wasn't sure, though the former made him more satisfied.

"Aye aye aye," He said with a cocky grin, "Is that _you?"_ He acknowleged this was a glimpse of Celes had she been born a noblewoman of a house not indebted to the Empire, and a woman who'd never truly belong with him.

She only looked back at him in her mirror for a moment. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a single ponytail gathered in a knot of a red ribbon at the crown of her head.

"Please don't tease me, Locke." She frowned when her eyes met his in the reflection, and turned to face him with the same unamused expression.

Locke took a step towards her and sensed her recoil back from him, so he stopped altogether. He raised his hands in open palms to her instead, a man in surrender.

"I don't mean to tease. You really do look amazing, that's all." He said earnestly, but the earnest response didn't seem to do him any good.

Celes stepped toward him now, her hair golden under the brilliant light of a chandelier. Her breasts were pushed upward and in with the pressure of her corset. He quickly snapped his eyes back to her face.

"Locke. Why did you help me escape back there?"

He winced. It was a fair question, but the context of it all made him conclude that she'd given their single bout of physical intimacy a lot of thought.

He wasn't ashamed of the act itself; it was special to him, and he didn't take for granted the immense vulnerability and sincerity she had shown to him. In another life, he could admit that he loved her with an intensity that she'd never know, but in this life he couldn't afford such declarations.

He shook his head. "I..."

She knew the answer, yet her piercing eyes narrowed at him, pulling the answer from his lips. "I once abandoned someone when she needed me."

His words caused her to close her eyes for a moment, as if processing the pain of his wayward affections. Her facial expression crushed him.

"Somewhere inside you were saving _her_ weren't you?"

"That ribbon suits you." He remarked, shamefully relishing the sudden flush of color in her cheeks.

Celes blinked at him the way she did when she was processing something, silent and expressionless.

"On with the show." She spoke flatly, "This is a big scene in which Maria senses that something happened to Draco."

Locke nodded, in agreeance with the message of her subtexual cues. "You'd better check the score one last time."

* * *

Her eyes never settled on him, but her voice was as sweet and smooth as one would expect from an opera star. He watched her as her long arms were extended, gracefully letting her fingers relax around the bouquet of flowers that she then dropped from a parapet.

The audience was silent. Whether or not they knew if she was Maria or an imposter, they seemed captivated.

"Well done, Celes." Locke murmured with a smile.

* * *

Later in the evening he propelled himself down onto the stage as he watched Celes' expression change when she seethingly mouthed through her teeth.

" _I've got this."_

But it was too late. He, Edgar, and Sabin had landed on their feet ready to receive the threat from above. The spotlight shone on him, bringing heat and light to his face in contrast to the rest of the drafty theatre. He could feel the warmth boil his pores from beneath the surface, bringing small beads of sweat to his complexion.

Edgar and Sabin looked to him and he spun to look to Celes in her gown, instantly amazed at how she wasn't sweating profusely at this point. She looked horrified.

"Disaster!" The Impresario declared form his perch on the stage, "If the two heroes are flattened, the opera's over! Then who'll win the girl?"

Locke knew he looked like a madman, his eyes wild as he searched for a queue, his hair tousled and bandana askew, and a layer of seat that dribbled around his eyes.

"Neither Draco nor Ralse will save Celes!" He boomed, wincing at the subtle murmur in the audience becoming audible, "I, Locke, the world's premier adventurer will save her!"

The Impresario groaned. Celes opened her mouth in an attempt to muster something in response but closed it in failure to conjure anything. It was safe to say she didn't thrive on improvisation to way that he did. So when the creature dove to the stage, further shocking both the audience and the cast, Locke drew his knife, signaling to Celes to stay out of it. The Gambler was sure to be within view of her at this point, and if she broke character now they'd lose their ride to Vector.

Celes was obedient, shrinking back behind a prop table.

It was absurd, Locke thought sometime later, the lengths that people would go to for love. He wasn't thinking of Rachel at the moment; he thought of Draco and Ralse, the gambler and Maria. He thought of Celes, and wondered if she ever loved someone.

He had never required more self control than when he looked over his shoulder to see an unfamiliar tall, well-to-do looking, long haired man sweep her up by the elbow. Her eyes strayed to his as the man whispered something in her ear and she smiled. He knew it was all for the plan that he himself subjected her to, but he wasn't prepared for the pang of jealousy or panic as he watched her idly follow the man as he led her from the stage.

He sheathed his knife and followed after them.

Several days earlier, He drank on the porch at the inn with Sabin rather than take his customary trips to the opera house to help Celes practice.

"You're not gonna see her tonight, huh?"

"No,"Locke shrugged. "S'not like I have to see her _every_ night. She's a big girl."

"Hmm."

His eyes flicked to Sabin to note that the man was smirking.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I would've expected more from you." Sabin shrugged. "We came all this way, found Terra, and you devise this plot to have Celes switched out for Maria, you two are like the two mystery children, disappearing into corners of rooms and stealing away in the night together. Shit like that. And now you're sharing a drink with _me_? I know something's up."

Locke felt his eyebrow twitch, but his neutral expression didn't budge. "You don't want to drink with me like old times?"

"I didn't say that." Sabin shook his head, pushing Locke by the shoulder playfully. "I missed ya, bud. But I know I'm not a tall and leggy blonde with an eye for vengeance, right?"

"Don't say that," Locke chuckled. "You have _great_ legs."

Sabin laughed, rolling his head to his shoulder to look at Locke. "You're right. But hers are better. What's the deal with you two?"

Locke shrugged, causing his drink to slosh over the edge of his cup as he leaned back against the wall of the inn. "I've tried. There's no deal."

It was a lie. Sabin raised an eyebrow out of suspicion. "Damn, that sucks. I thought for sure she was falling for you."

Edgar pushed open the door from inside to join them. Locke brought his cup to his lips to excuse himself of any immediate response.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and all the reviews so far! I've never been involved in a love triangle with a dead girl but I imagine it would be confusing! It's fun to flesh out these moments that I thought of while playing the game, it makes me want to play it again. These last few chapters have been fun, next one will be aboard the Blackjack with Celes!


	10. Aboard the Blackjack

**Aboard the Blackjack**

* * *

Celes pulled the jewelry off piece by piece, ignoring the mortified looks from her companions in the room, particularly Locke as she agreed to the terms of the deal. She remained in her dress for added leverage, as she knew men had a particular eye for cleavage and the dress provided plenty. She was willing to use any advantage should could in a poker game against the notorious gambler.

"First, a drink for the lady."

Setzer stood before an extensively stocked liquor cabinet that lined the wall. He selected a crystal decanter from the shelf and poured two small shot glasses to the brim.

"And a drink for me."

He spoke wryly, passing her her glass and raising his in a mock cheers.

Celes' nose wrinkled as she accepted it. She looked up at him from where she sat at the poker table. "I prefer wine."

A lock of hair slid over his shoulder. He looked like he had been very handsome once, before his face became disfigured with scars. They were old and well healed, but left pale discolored puckers on his flesh.

"We can drink that after. _I_ start every poker game with a shot."

She could handle the hard liquor, but preferred not to indulge in it as it reminded her of the Imperial parties.

" _Celes! Be careful!"_ Locke hissed through his teeth as she took the drink in one go, throwing her head back as she did so. Edgar and Sabin had made their way to a couch in the corner, speaking quietly in hushed voices that fell silent when Locke spoke. He had remained a mere few feet from her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tensely.

"Uh oh." Setzer's eyes flitted from hers to his. "I'm allowing you to watch out of favor to the lady. If you can't handle what you see perhaps you should leave. And besides," He smirked coldly at the younger man, "This is going to be nothing compared to the things we'll do together on this table when she becomes my bride."

She could only see him at the corner of her eye but she recognized a familiar twitch in his hand reaching for the hilt of a knife.

"Locke, please." Celes spoke sharply turned her head to him.

The look he gave her made her feel heartbroken and pity him. She supposed she should be angry with him for how he shut her out after they'd slept together and use this opportunity as leverage for revenge. But the truth was, she understood. And they couldn't afford to have bickering in their ranks at the moment.

She had feelings for Locke, and she couldn't deny that she loved being the sole object of his attention and desire, even if it was only for an evening.

He relaxed his arm, drawing them both tightly to his chest. She could tell he was stressed by the visibility of his veins over his arms and neck, the vessels popped out blue from under his tanned skin.

"Perhaps you should leave." Setzer's eyes remained on Locke darkly as he passed Celes the deck to shuffle.

"He can stay." Celes spoke softly, accepting the deck from him.

As she dealt the cards, Locke pushed himself from the wall and walked over to join the other two men on the couch, casting a nervous glance her way.

As much admiration that Locke expressed toward her, she had to admit his lack of faith in her in this moment was a little jarring. He _had_ to know that she wouldn't have accepted the terms if she weren't sure of the reward.

Setzer's eyes scanned the cards she dealt and his expression remained unchanged. He was apparently the master of the 'poker face', but so was she.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He fears you'll force yourself on me." She replied bluntly.

Setzer looked to her over his cards in hand with a new glint in his eyes.

"I would _never._ I like having willing participants."

Celes remained still, feeling him eye her peculiarly.

Somewhere in the back, Locke shuffled and brought his leg up on a table, tapping the air with it in a quick pace.

* * *

When Celes finally laid her cards on the table Setzer's eyes widened for a moment, then he threw head back and laughed.

The noise startled the men on the far side of the room and they stood as Celes did, standing triumphantly before her opponent and offering him her hand.

She meant it as a handshake but he leaned forward over the table, resting an elbow on it's surface and took her hand in his to kiss her knuckles, fingers lingering on the callouses that dwelled on her palm.

"You're quite experience with the sword, I see." He murmured against her skin, eyebrows furrowed as he sat back.

"I am." She replied, "I'm Celes Chere, former General of the Imperial army."

Locke, Edgar, and Sabin had walked to the table with a lonely chandelier providing light overhead, standing around the gambler as he sat, the only person in the room still currently doing so.

Setzer's eyes narrowed at her. "Ah, so a deal is a deal then."

"So you'll help us?"

Setzer shrugged, rising to tower over her once more and sliding his hands into his pockets.

"The Empire has made me a very rich man." He said, nodding his chin to the finery that was set in the room.

Celes' eyes narrowed. "Stop thinking of yourself."

His eyes flickered to her once more. He stepped to the side of the table and approached her slowly, pressing a soft hand to her cheek.

"I'm not the man you think I am," He said earnestly, "And you weren't who I thought you were."

"That's the point of poker, isn't it?" Celes replied smartly, though she understood him perfectly.

He chuckled. "You're even more beautiful than Maria."

"So you'll take us to Vector?" Edgar interjected, apparently sensing the spasticity emanating from Locke.

"I'll take you wherever you wish to go." Setzer replied, eyes still settled on Celes, "I've got nothing to lose but my life, right?"

* * *

They had set their course on Vector, but with the backtracking to pick up the remaining members, they wouldn't arrive to the southern continent until at least late morning.

Setzer's ship was nothing short of a luxury machine built with the engine of a high speed military aircraft. Celes spent a good amount of time in the mirror of her cabin, frustrated as she fumbled to undo the dress and the ties in her corset. It was tied so tightly that she could barely gain the range of motion to reach behind and undo it by herself. She briefly considered cutting it with her sword when a knock rapped on her door.

"Come in." Though she was in her undergarments the was still technically covered from head to toe.

Locke opened the door slowly, jolting and backing out slightly when he saw her state of dress.

"No, _please_ come in." Celes pleaded. "I need your help."

She turned so that he back was turned to him, the strings of her corset in their full, tightened display.

"Ah." Locke eased himself inside, "Those things are vicious, aren't they, not that I know from personal ex-."

"-It _is_ vicious. Please help me" Celes interrupted him to plead. She clutched the front of it with both hands. She felt his fingers unravel the knot at the bottom and tug the garment apart in little strokes.

"Did you ah, want something?" She asked, suddenly considering why he might;ve come to her room in the first place.

"Yeah actually," Locke spoke humorously, "When I actually decided to see you this isn't what I had in mind.

She felt relief with every pull he gave her by the string, loosening the corset and allowing her to breath and and her abdominal muscles relax for the first time that day. She felt normal again.

He continued. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

Her chin shot to her shoulder so that she could see him, though his eyes were downward in concentration at the task at hand.

"What for?"

He looked to her for a moment before looking back down. "You were brilliant today, Celes. I shouldn't have acted that way back there."

She felt the absence of his hands and heard in step back. She turned, clutching the fully loosened corset with both hands at her chest to keep it up.

"Thank you."

It was all the she could muster to say before he continued.

"You deserve to unwind and have your time alone. But the rest of us are having a good time downstairs if you want to join."

She wasn't sure why, but she took step toward him and he took a step back in response. A single gas lamp was lit in the room, casting a golden glow on his ashen blonde hair.

Locke took another step back and opened the door, turning over his shoulder at her. "You should come down with us when you're ready."

He left, closing the door behind him.

Celes let the corset fall to the floor, along with the remnants of her undergarments. She pulled the ribbon loose from her hair, letting it cascade down her back. She looked at her naked reflection in the mirror, all the bony prominences of her collarbone and the ribs over her chest revealed themselves with every inhale, pressing to the surface of her skin. Her hips curled around her skin crude curves,

She felt she should be proud of herself. No one could deny she was a good actor. Today she'd played Maria and Maria's opera part, she'd played the gambler and arguably even Locke.

 _Locke._

The thought of him made her shiver as she submerged herself in the steaming heat of the bathwater. She recalled the gentle way he cradled her head in Zozo and the purple bruise on her hip from where he'd gripped her too tightly out of passion. But he was far more devoted to another, even in death.

She submerged her body beneath the water, closing her eyes and leaving her nose above the surface for air. She felt her hair sway and move around her with every slight nudge of her head. She wondered if he'd miss her nearly as much if she submerged herself completely and never broke the surface again.

* * *

Downstairs, she heard the staggered plunking of keys on a piano that only distantly resembled a melody as she found a seat at a table with Cyan and Sabin as Edgar and Setzer spoke quietly by the bar.

"You must be exhausted," Cyan nudged her arm with his elbow and Sabin pragmatically poured her a glass from the decanter of wine. He slid it over to her and she accepted it gratefully. The small rush from the scotch from earlier had long worn off, and she felt the impending anxiety set in as they closed in on the southern continent.

"I am." She smiled weakly at Sabin in thanks. She took a sip and leaned her head on her hand, tangling in the strands of her hair still wet from the bath.

"I was wrong about you." Cyan leaned toward her, his dark eyes solemn and sincere. "You've done more for our cause than I could ever accomplish. I hope you accept my apologies."

"Not necessary," She replied, taking a larger sip of the drink in her glass, "I could, after all, be setting you up for an ambush now."

Sabin snorted, picking up on her dry wit faster than Cyan had, with the latter eyeing her skeptically before breaking into a smile.

"Elayne had that same wit, she never cared for the flimsy wisdom of the other women of Doma." Cyan told her earnestly, "She would've loved to have a friend like you."

Celes circled her glass with her finger, awaiting the familiar euphoria that wine gave her to set in. "I'm sorry for what happened to her." Her eyes flashed to his, "Leo and I didn't approve of it, and had I not been imprisoned at the time I'd like to believe I'd intervene if I'd known beforehand."

Cyan shrugged. "It was Kefka, Gestahl who enabled him. I know that now."

"To be fair, Kefka is capable of much worse." She hadn't directly though of her Magitek predecessor in a while, and the thought of seeing him again made her uneasy.

"What could be worse?" Sabin interjected, topping of her glass though it wasn't nearly empty.

"He delights in his own methods of torture that he finds inspiration for from his own abilities."

Cyan's eyes widened. "You've seen it?"

Distant memories of corpses and near-corpses in varying states of death and degradation consumed her. Children beside parents, husbands bound and forced to watch as their wives were taken.

"I was 'mentored' by him for a bit. I've seen some."

"Let's talk about something else." Sabin cut in again, his blue eyes noting her discomfort.

She shook her head as he topped off her wine again, feeling heat rush to her face as she heard the question: "What are your intentions with Locke?"

Celes rose an eyebrow. "Only if you tell me of your intentions with the barmaid in Jidoor."

"That's easy, purely carnal." He and Cyan both laughed, and she remained stone-faced, sipping her wine and shaking her head.

"Your turn, then." Sabin challenged her jovially.

Celes shrugged. "Purely carnal." Her drinking mates roared with laughter over hearing a woman say such a thing, but her eyes strayed to the far side of the room where Locke sat at the piano, and in a moment of clarity she realized that he was the producer of the bare bones of the melody that played in the room, however smoother it was now that he had warmed up.

"I'll leave you two to your childish speculation. Let me know what you come up with." She told Cyan and Sabin, rising from her seat as she grabbed her glass, declining Sabin's offer for yet another refill.

Perhaps it was the liquid courage that soothed her senses and anxiety, but she crossed the room and sat beside Locke on the bench, taking a swig from her glass as she set it on top of the instrument.

He stopped a scooted to the side to allow her more room.

"I didn't know you played." She observed, watching his hands as they started to pluck at the keys again.

"My father did," Locke replied, not looking up from the keys. His facial expression was focused and his shoulders were tense. "Whenever we came to a new town he would spend a while at the piano in whatever tavern was close by."

Celes had never picked up on it until now, but he had the slightest northern accent. It was something she was unaccustomed to being from Vector and even from her small amount of exposure to the world outside there.

"He taught you, then?"

"Not really." He made a blunder and out of frustration, terminated the piece altogether and started something different. It sound like a waltz, and the pinky finger of his left hand proceeded the remainder of the chord as it bounced from octave to octave, and his right hand began some melody from memory.

"He played without music. Said he learned that way."

Celes sat in silence. There was a whole world of things about Locke she'd never known, and why would she think that he would tell her it all in the short time they'd known one another?

"Here." He said, halting the music again and setting her fingers upon the keys so that every digit had its own space.

"This is an inverted C chord, it's easy to remember." He covered her hand with his, pressing her pinky finger downward followed by two beats from her middle finger and thumb. He showed her the octaves, and how to bounce back and forth between two of them.

She got it down as he took a swig from her glass and set it back down, reaching out his right hand to pick out the melody again.

They got though several triumphant stanzas before she muddled it, fingers spastically cramping from the unfamiliar activity.

"Ah, sorry." She laughed as he looked at her with a mockingly disappointed expression.

"Are you not an opera star?"

They were close now. She could practically feel the steady, slow heartbeat in his chest and the warmth of his limbs.

"I'm not, but I'm told I'd make a good imposter."

He laughed and winked at her and he helped her rise from the bench to join the poker game that was forming at the table where everyone else sat.

It was the perfect night, she decided. They only missed Terra, but she sat at the table playing her cards against the people who had helped her on her path and in conjunction with the alcohol she felt her anxiety fade, if only for an evening.

* * *

A/N: My longest chapter yet! I changed the Celes/Setzer 'coin toss' to a poker game because I thought that would be more fun and it felt like the game summed it up to a coin toss for simplicity's sake, but in reality poker would be a lot more interesting- though when writing it I realized that it had been forever since I last played poker, so it is what it is! Next chapter will cover the road to Vector or Vector itself from Locke's POV. Almost caught up the the beginning!

I have some friends visiting with my from out of town this week followed by work stuff so it may be at least another week before I update depending on how many shenanigans I get into, but it'll happen regardless! Thanks for reading so far!


	11. Bonfire

**Bonfire**

* * *

Recommended listening: Autumn Song by Agnes Obel

* * *

"I think my grandpa is fading from this world." Rachel told him, her dark eyes wide and serious with a sincerity that made him full of sorrow.

Locke nuzzled her bare shoulder from behind.

They lay in the barn behind Kohlingen, where no one dared to wander on crisp fall nights. Though they alone with their body heat left plenty of warmth.

"What makes you think that?" Locke asked, speaking with his lips pressing against her smooth, olive skin. Her grandmother had passed only days earlier of a sudden illness, leaving her grandfather to sit alone by the window of his home, as he could no longer walk through the house as he pleased without assistance.

Rachel rolled onto her back in the bed of hay and brought a hand to his chin.

"I went to see him today and he said, _'I had a dream that Natalie died last night.'_ but I reminded him that grandma died several days ago. He seemed surprised and confused."

Locke brought a hand to her neck, feeling her react to his touch, and brought his lips to her warm skin softly, before pulling back to prop his head on his hand.

"I can't imagine being married that long and suddenly losing that person."

Rachel blinked several times, as if she was holding back tears. "Do you think that will be us?"

"It could be," Locke shrugged, "But we're gonna have _so_ many memories together before that happens. Just like your grandparents."

She pulled him back in for another kiss.

Rachel was always pure, gentle, and sweet.

At least that's what he could remember.

* * *

They made camp not far from Albrook, since the light of day faded below the tops of the trees and the group was fatigued.

Locke walked though the small camp they made, a huddle of tents and various bags that had been cast aside as they picked the spot on the side of a hill. Gau had disappeared per usual, and Sabin had left to check the traps he'd laid. Celes had gone off to take a bath nearby, and Edgar busied himself with inventory.

Locke rubbed his hands together as he walked to keep warm. This land was cooler and dryer than what he'd been used to.

"Locke, we require your expertise." Setzer beckoned him as he approached the remaining group huddled around what looked like an attempt at a campfire.

Locke shook his head. "I wonder how you can Edgar are related sometimes." He knelt beside Edgar, Figaro's king who sat in a circle beside Setzer and Cyan.

"We both learned want we must out of _necessity."_

Locke grabbed the flint from his hands and waved him off. "Yeah, yeah."

He struck the stone several times. No luck. He rearranged the kindling, adding more dried moss and small twigs to the arrangement. The men around him sat in silence, no wanting to irk the one whom they were relying on for warmth.

"What's going on? What happened to the fire?"

Locke looked over his shoulders. Celes had returned from the river, her hair in wet clumps and she massaged it with a blanket in her hand.

"Locke here is having some trouble getting it started." Edgar nudged him playfully.

"Don't be ridiculous." Celes chided them as she dropped the blanket and took the flint from him, striking it once before she had a flame to nurse to life.

Locke allowed her to do so passively, catching the faint lavender scent of her hair when she leaned beside him, her eyes narrowed in concentration on the task at hand.

"Sabin is going to be back soon with a catch and he's going to need something hotter than this," She observed, "I'll get some better kindling, if you all can manage keeping it going until I get back?"

Locke said nothing. There was a change in her tone towards him, and the others had undoubtedly picked up it by now.

She rose, sweeping her damp hair over one shoulder and disappeared into the wood line before any of them spoke again.

"How do you live with yourselves, sending a fine lady like that into to woods at night on her own?" Setzer leaned back from the little fire as Locke nursed it.

Locke and Cyan exchanged a look.

Cyan shrugged. "She's more than capable of the task."

Locke agreed silently, pushing the images of Celes stumbling into him after she was attacked in Zozo from his mind.

Setzer rose, dusting off the length of his jacket as he did so. "Well if neither of you are up to the task, I'll go."

Locke twitched. Had he acted on impulse he would've jumped up and darted off toward the trees before Setzer took another step. But her remained still, letting the man stride by, looking down on him with a perplexed look as he went.

"Should we trust him alone with her?" Cyan asked, looking back at him with eyebrows raised.

Locke shrugged. "C'mon now, you've seen him fight. I'm more afraid for _him_ going off in the woods, with or without Celes."

Cyan chuckled. "Undoubtedly."

The older man paused, and Locke felt the sensation of being observed by two wise and dark eyes across from him that twinkled in the firelight.

"What happened between you two?" Cyan spoke again finally?

"I'm not sure what you mean." Locke replied flatly.

Cyan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes steadily boring into Locke as he did so.

"I can recall a time not so long ago that you would have jumped to be at her side, not matter how menial the task. I can see that she cares for you, yet you push her after you've pulled her in."

Locke felt his eyes flicker in bitterness. "I'd never..."

Cyan watched the growing flames. "Perhaps I'm interpreting it wrong then. I just think you should've gone with her just now."

"I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you?"

Locke sighed. "I crossed the line with Celes. I can't let that happen again."

Cyan's eyebrows rose, "'Crossed the line?'"

Locke shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Cyan. After this is all over and done I'm going back home to Rachel. I have to make it right."

"I see." He felt Cyan sizing him up some more.

"Have you considered a circumstance where in the event you are unsuccessful in reviving her?"

"Yes," Locke replied, the adrenaline of the seriousness of the conversation causing his hands to tremble slightly, "But I won't let things end that way. Not while there's a chance."

"And if it were _you_ instead, would you want Rachel to assume your place as of now?"

Locke stared at his hands, caked in dirt and bracing the flames as they rose.

 _'No, I'd want her to just be happy.'_

A distant figure of Celes appeared in his peripheral, walking while swinging an axe leisurely with every step, several paces in front of Setzer, who had several good sized pieces of timber stacked in his arms.

Locke never answered Cyan aloud. He understood that Cyan spoke with his best interest in mind, but didn't feel that the man fully grasped the complexity of the situation.

Celes met his eyes briefly, smiling politely as they did so, and preoccupied herself with unloading Setzer's arms and feeding the fire.

* * *

Later in the night, after Sabin and Gau returned with a wild hog's corpse that roasted over the fire in pieces, Locke lay with his arms crossed behind his head, as the remainder of the party dosed in the tent and around the site, bodies laying limply in lifeless clusters, bodies that one would never anticipate had such an ambitious task to complete.

Locke watched her, rounding the campsite and collecting tin trays and plates for washing.

He swallowed. There was truth in what he told Cyan; he felt a sense of betrayal and guilt when he engaged Celes physically because he _liked_ it, he actually wanted _more_ of her. He wanted to love her, to cup her face in his hands and profess it, to feel her heartbeat under his hand as she moved over him, to grab her hand as her thin fingers interlaced his and push her on her back. He wanted to make her gasp again, and to feel her shudder as she tucked her forehead into the crook of his neck.

He wouldn't do that, not ever again, but he supposed he could roll off his ass and help her clean the dishes.

Locke rose and jogged up from behind her and she was carrying the stack to a stream.

"Hey," He half whispered, watching her shoulders jerk as he startled her.

"I didn't know you were still awake." She said quietly, accepting as he offered to carry some of the load.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one." Locke replied earnestly, "I just wanted to help."

He saw a small smile creep upon her lips. She said nothing.

Cyan was ignorant to the situation, but there was some wisdom in his words, Locke decided. He felt sad, thinking about Celes on her own, wandering the world and conquering beasts without a home to return to. He didn't want that life for her; in reality he wanted her all to himself.

It was a selfish thought, but a real one.

She knelt by the river and tossed him some soap from her bag, and after tucking her hair behind her ears she went to work. He thought about how strange it must be for her to return to a war torn land ravaged by her own command as a traitor, and a secretive rebel operative.

He admired her for that.

Locke followed suit. They sat quietly like that for some time, before a distant memory came to mind.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got kicked out of the bar my first night in Kohlingen?"

Her stern features lightened and she paused, laughing a little and turning to face him.

"No, I don't believe you have."

Locke exhaled deeply, his fingers gloved by a rag, scrubbing mercilessly at a pan. "Okay, well it's pretty embarrassing. So you can't repeat this to anyone."

Celes' eyes glinted at him in the moonlight, reflecting light and mirth.

* * *

A/N: Back after a while! I'll admit I debated whether to include this chapter at all but wanted to have as much time between these two possible before Vector happens since they won't have a moment like this for a while. The next few will be more eventful I promise! I'll try to post the next one ASAP as I have more company to distract me coming this week.

The beginning where Rachel talks about her grandparents is based on something that actually happened with my own grandparents, (my grandpa telling us that he had a dream his wife died and we told him it was real, thus witnessing him relive that all over again.) He passed shortly after, I always thought it was sad but sort of sweet.

Thank you for reading!


	12. Open Arms

**Open Arms**

* * *

"Is it true? What that man told us about Kefka?" Locke asked her as they huddled in their single room at the inn the night before they were to infiltrate the capitol's laboratories.

They sat against the wall, side by side, both with their knees drawn to their chest.

"Yes." Celes heard herself reply. "I've spent more than my share of time with him. It's true, all of it."

" _Man._ " Locke sighed, laying his head back on the grey stone wall.

Across the room, Edgar and Sabin were making the best sleeping arrangements that they could with the single bed, spreading blankets and pillows on the floor before the dying fire in the fireplace.

"He was my mentor when I was originally selected for command." Celes informed him.

She'd told him this before, she was sure. But it never had the same meaning, now that they were in the capitol city where Celes was supposedly born and raised in the depths of the war machine, infused with it's chemicals and indoctrinated with it's ideals.

Locke's eyes rolled to meet hers. "What did that entail?" His baritone was softer and calmer than she anticipated it would be.

"Mostly shadowing him. He wasn't in the state he is now, though he had me join in in a series of interrogations once."

She stopped there, hoping Locke wouldn't pry her for details. But the deep darkness of his eyes nudged her to continue. She hesitated, knowing Locke would view her differently if he'd known the extent of her transgressions.

 _'Does it matter?'_

"There was a man, suspended in chains." She heard her own voice as if it was the voice of another: cold, calculating, and cruel. "His wife and child were chained before him, close enough so that he could see the sweat on their brow, but too far to touch. Kefka ordered me to kill them."

She couldn't meet Locke's eyes, but she felt their weight, summarizing the situation and searching for a logical rationale in which she would not be at fault: but it would be fruitless. She _was_ at fault, after all.

"He wanted me to use my blade, but I froze them instead."

Locke sat silently, eyes scattering to the floor instead.

It was true, all of it. She couldn't stand the act, though in her naivete at the time she resorted to a less direct and faster approach, one that wouldn't haunt her with the screams of a woman and man separated for eternity, or a child in a premature concept of a death sentence. Ice was mercy in this circumstance, whether Locke acknowledged that or not.

"What would _you_ have done?" She turned to him this time and he shrugged, fingers fumbling nervously with the hem of his vest's sleeves as his chin rose.

"I don't know." He replied earnestly, "I just don't think I could do _that."_

"Well, then." She rose, terminating the conversation more so out of disgust for herself than his response.

Locke spoke honestly and with conviction, something she lacked within herself until the very end, when she was finally branded a traitor.

* * *

Celes led them through halls of steam and machinery. Edgar had stopped her along the way, linking various switches with mechanisms in his mind and looking to her for clarification. She had minimal knowledge on the topic, and gave him the best information she could, though it wasn't much.

They approached the hall of life size creatures in tanks, the creatures she remembered from her childhood and now knew were Espers.

In the dim flickering light at the end she recognized the man punching in the commands of the tanks at a keypad, causing fluctuations in the fluid and an audible groan from the supposed beasts within.

"Professor Cid?"

She called him, and when he rose to face her his complexion was weathered with many more lines than she'd last remembered, but the man who both cursed her and raised her smiled when he recognized her.

"General Celes!" He clasped his hands together, stepping towards her and away from the control panel to greet her. "Who might these dubious characters be?"

He motioned to the men behind her, Edgar and Cyan with their hands on the sheath of their weapons and Locke standing protectively at her side.

"Your troops?"

Celes shook her head. In any other situation it would've seem comical that he would address her comrades in such a way, but in that moment it was anything but.

"No, you see..." Celes hesitated in the midst of the mechanical engines that ignited in the room in that moment. Something was coming.

"I've heard you would come as a spy, seeking to cause an uprising." The twinkle in Cid's eye told her had said this out of humor derived from some rumor he'd found to be absurd, but her companions did not speak Cid's language of humor as well as she did.

"Celes?" She heard Locke say and she shook her head dismissively, raising a hand to him to signal that Cid's word's were nothing more than a jest, offered in an insignificant error that should've have meant anything.

But because of the events that followed, they meant a great deal.

"General Celes!" The familiar shrill voice proclaimed as Kefka emerged from an entrance close to Cid. He rounded the corner and mockingly bowed to her flamboyantly, displaying the display of Imperial military ribbons and medals pinned to his brightly colored cape.

"The game's over. Bring me the magicite shards." Kefka's voice dropped an octave.

Celes took several steps forward, separating herself from the rest of the group, attempting to flex out her chest with her shoulders back in what would hopefully be a display of strength.

"You deceived me?" Locke's voice made her facade crumble, and she swung herself around to face him with his blade drawn and pointed at her. His eyes were narrowed and full of hatred, glimmering with what she presumed could be tears, but it was the blade's tip aimed at her chest that did the most damage.

"Of course not!" She spat, drawing her own sword in an instinctive response. "Have a little faith!"

But her words did little to ease the man's aggressive posture.

Kefka's laughter echoed throughout the chamber, exasperating the hostility towards her as Cyan and Edgar followed Locke's lead.

"She tricked you all! Celes- that's so _you._ "

Celes rolled her eyes. She knew of the instance that Kefka spoke of, when she was barely fifteen years old and he first attempted to seduce her in the Imperial gardens by leaving her an anonymous note with a date and location on it, and she'd paid a similarly built kitchen wench with long blonde hair to take her place in the setting provided by him. She never knew what became of the girl, but her survival instincts told her that she had made the right decision.

Kefka eyed her suspiciously from that day forward. _"Be careful of that one,"_ He'd tell troops under his command, _"She's a tricky one. A mockingbird in a flock of vultures."_

But Locke never knew that story, and so his blade remained pointed at her, an action that caused pain in her heart and furious tears in her eyes.

"Locke," She choked, " _Please_ believe in me."

His brown eyes remained narrowed in her direction. He didn't return her straightforward gaze. His face was contorted in hatred and anguish. _She_ was to blame for the loss of his beloved, _She_ utilized him and his friends for survival after he pulled her from her prison in the dungeon. _She_ deceived him, tempting him to partake in physical pleasure as his betrothed lay sleeping in suspended animation.

She didn't believe any of that, but as he faced her she could tell that he did.

"I..." He started, his eyes widening as they finally settled on hers before they flickered away and reflected hatred again.

"Exterminate all of them!" She heard Kefka cry over her shoulder, a command not meant for her but for the hundreds of minions he's kept stored within the facility for an emergency such as this. Her heart sank.

She knew what was coming. In on a moment's time beast after beast would break through the confines of the chamber and rip Locke, Cyan, and Edgar to shreds.

She'd never been good at teleportation- it was a spell she'd always passed off to Kefka when it was tactically necessary. But in that moment, she summoned the will necessary to make it happen.

"Let me protect you for once." She pointed her sword defensively back at Locke and his lips parted slightly in surprise. "Maybe now you'll believe in me."

She watched mid spell, as a white light surrounded her and Kefka and barricaded her companions from his wrath, when Locke's lips formed a phrase unintelligible before he faded from her sight.

"Stop it!" She heard Kefka scream. The acoustics of her surroundings where suddenly quite different, open making his shrill voice echo.

* * *

Her eyelids fluttered open. They were outside of Vector at least, and Kefka was likely to not have done any real harm to Locke.

" _You_." She felt a shockwave enter and exit her body, causing sheer pain from resonated form her spine to her finger tips. She screamed in agony, dropping her sword in the process, raising her head to face a maddened Kefka with an open fist aimed in her direction.

She collapsed, rolling on the ground the ward the pain off and conjuring a cure before she felt the painful grasp of hands of her wrists, confining them over her head.

"I always knew you'd get in my way! I told Gestahl you'd only be fit for breeding but _no."_

Celes felt his sharp fingertips graze the skin on her face, piercing it and drawing blood. She grunted, and cast Ice, which only temporarily stunned him enough so that she could roll out from under his grasp.

He countered with a swift blow to the side of her head and a quickly conjured thundara, eliciting another cry from her throat.

Celes inhaled deeply, conjuring runic and forcing him to utilize his sword against hers instead. She knew it was his weakness, he was as quick as her but not as intuitive or strong with his swings. She was the better swordsman, though he was more developed in Magitek ability. They clashed several times, and Celes mustered what strength she could to counter every blow he attempted.

"That's enough."

Celes collected her sword from the ground, raising slowly from all fours as the familiar voice convinced her to calm slowly.

"Kefka, you're under arrest for conspiracy."

Leo. Celes rose slowly, sword now in hand. The olive skinned general jerked his chin to his troops as he made eye contact with her, a gesture of friendship and recognition that she'd missed so.

Celes raised a hand, weakening Kefka enough so that he could be apprehended. She watched as the soldiers, emotions muted by the limited exposure of their helmets, chained the first ever Magitek Knight to a wooden board, and dragged him off by the speed of two horses.

"Conspiracy to what exactly?" Celes asked her old friend, wiping her chin of saliva and grit. "Last I heard he was doing Gestahl's will."

"Where to start?" Leo smiled at her and opened his arms, "It's been a while. We've all missed you, Celes. I never doubted you, not for a moment."

She returned his embrace. It was a strange gesture coming from Leo, but she admittedly had missed him as well.

"Your captivity, your sentencing, it was all Kefka's doing." Leo murmured into her shoulder as she closed her eyes.

"I know." She whispered back.

"No one actually believed you acted out against the Empire. You're a brave woman, Celes. You've started quite a movement."

She squeezed her eyes shut now, willing the tears back into their ducts. How could it be, that Locke had doubt her while the very people she'd rebelled against were so ready to receive her again? Surely there was more to the story, but for the moment, it was good to see Leo again.

She parted from him, one arm remaining on his shoulder, and scanning his eyes for information. He only smiled back at her, offering a potion for her injuries. She accepted, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all.

"What of the rebels?" She questioned him delicately, unsure of what her stance was to be on the topic.

"They arrived by your guidance, did they not? I don't believe any harm will come to them, as long as they cooperate."

Celes felt calm wash over her. Surely there was more to the condition of peaceful surrender, but Leo was someone she trusted, and his intent was pure.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! Next bit will get into the time that Locke and Celes spend apart, and the title of this fic. Writing this has been fun and sort of painful thus far, reliving some painful experiences of adult relationships when things get so complicated, which is an aspect of this pairing that I loved from the start. I have and idea for how I want it all end with the canon ending in mind, and am excited to deliver! Like I said I will be having company with weekend again followed by lots of work so the update may be delayed but not forgotten! Thanks all!


	13. Love Is

**Love Is**

* * *

Recommended listening: "September Song" by Agnes Obel

* * *

The winter snows fell heavily on Narshe, setting white flakes over Locke's eyelashes and brow as he crouched outside the porch of the inn, silently smoking an opium pipe.

They were to depart early in the morning and he hadn't been sleeping much as of late. His notions of sleep were now dreamless slumbers that taunted him with a sudden twitch in his muscle that called him harshly back to reality.

A figure approached him through the hazy blur of the snow, and in his dulled senses he only stared, wrapping his coat around himself tighter. He squatted and rested the back of his head against the wall of the foundation, looking up at the white sky while allowing the wetness to melt onto the surface of his eyes.

He looked forward again. The hooded figure was taller now, and through it's thick winter dress he recognized it as female. She had one gloved hand over the hem of her long coat as she walked, head facing the ground.

 _'Celes.'_

He thought her name somewhat bitterly, taking another slow hit from the pipe. Their last encounter haunted him, as the dancing lights of machinery fired around her as she stood defensively before him, spitting on his moment of doubt and eyes intense with anger and emotion.

He could've killed her then had he been an impulsive man, or had he not cared for her or respected her. He supposed if their first encounter had been then instead of her feeble appearance while chained to a wall in a cellar he could have. He was quick enough, and he knew her weaknesses in battle.

But he was bitter at himself for putting her in that position, to where she teleported herself with Kefka to some unknown location out of his reach.

The figure clearly wasn't Celes. It was clearer now that she stopped several feet away, head raising to identify him but staying bowing to avoid the falling snow. A girlishly feminine faced framed by soft doll-like curls of blonde.

"Locke? You must be freezing!" Terra's gentle voice urged him, and he shifted sideways some as she settled herself on an overturned bucket beside him.

"You must be freezing yourself." He offered her a small smile. "What have you been doing out there?"

She shrugged, rubbing her covered hands in the inside of her thighs as she closed her knees for warmth.

"Nothing, really. I've never seen snow like this, so I thought I'd go for a walk."

Locke chuckled a bit, inviting the welcome distraction of the simple muses of Terra's mind to invade his own dark thoughts.

"It doesn't snow like this in Vector?"

"I'm not sure. I don't remember everything."

That was probably for the best, based upon the accounts that Celes had disclosed with him.

"I didn't know you smoked." She spoke again, motioning to the pipe.

"Ah," He pulled the pipe from where it rested on his lips and turned it around in his fingers as he felt her eyes observing it. "Only sometimes."

"I suppose now is as good a time as any, right?"

Locke looked at her inquisitively.

"I mean, you've been so quiet lately. I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet."

Her blue eyes shimmered at him, appearing artificial somehow.

"Have I?" Locke turned back, squinted against the brilliant sea of white in front of him. He felt how everyone acted differently around him.

"We're going to see her again." Terra said finally, pulling him from his reverie with a hand to his arm. He was as buried under a jacket as she was, but he could feel the grasp of her fingers wrap around his arm as she rubbed it lightly. "I'm sure she's okay."

"Yeah," Locke exhaled slowly, his mind deliciously buzzed but not swimming without concern.

"I'm not worried about her being okay." Locke felt himself speak again, drawling slightly amidst the smoke. "I'm sad because I screwed up. And I don't know if she'll ever forgive me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to talk to her again to at least tell her that. "

Terra said nothing, sitting beside him in silence for a moment. Then at last she reached for the pipe from his hand, looking at his astonished expression shyly. "May I?"

"Of course." He replied, passing it to her, watching as she held it awkwardly with both hands.

"I think if anyone deserves some it's you." He added teasingly, and she cast him a scolding look in response as she took a drag and sputtered passing the pipe back to him as she coughed into the opposite hand.

He laughed and accepted it, patting her on the back. "You okay?"

She waved him off and shook her head, contradictory to her choked reply of "Yes."

"I think she'll talk to you again."

Terra made the statement several minutes later.

Locke offered her the pipe and she accepted again, more cautious with her breath this time. "Think so?"

Terra said nothing until she passed it back to him in a haze of smoke.

"Yes I think so. And I think if she's really that hurt by you it's because she really loves you."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Locke replied bluntly.

"It should. Because if she loves you it means that you made her happy to be alive at some point."

"Is that what love is?" Locke leaned to her now, brows furrowed at her bold words.

"I think so."

Terra lifted her hood back somewhat from her eyes, revealing more of the crown of her head, curls unraveling from within. "That what it seems like. Love is the best part about being alive. It's what made my mother forfeit her world to be with my father, and with me. Love is when you can look at someone and say _'You'll make this worthwhile.'_ "

Locke thought for a moment. Terra wasn't wrong, but his mind was too loose to determine if she was right.

"Do you love anyone, Terra? Does anyone make this 'worth it'?" He inquired, changing the subject.

"I'm not sure yet."

When night fell they retired to their respective rooms, provided in courtesy of the mayor. Locke trailed behind her, ensuring she pulled her boots off and removed her jacket without issue in the dim light of the lodge. They walked up the stairs, and she giggled at him for some mannerism he displayed that was unknown to him, and at the top of the stairs she embraced him before the went their separate ways in opposite ends of the hall.

"She'll forgive you." Terra murmured against the moist fabric on his chest and he returned the embrace wordlessly.

He trudged to his room, peeling off his layers of clothing as he went.

The fresh scent of cedar greeted him as he stepped in his room, and light snores sounded from Cyan where he slept on the bed on the opposite side of the room. Locke removed his shirt and it's affiliated holsters.

Cyan had saved him some water in a bucket by the door to wash up, and Locke took it as he crossed the room, pouring it into a bowl set in front of a mirror. A gas lamp glowed behind him and he grabbed it and put in on a window ledge by the mirror. He collected a small blade and his soap from his bag by the bed and lathered the soap in water to smooth over the hairs emerging on his face.

He stared at himself for a moment, suds dribbling slowly down his cheeks and from his chin as he held a blade in hand, making him appear to be a madman for a moment. Perhaps it was the opium, but his face was hardly recognizable. He was thin, hollow cheekbones emerging amidst pale skin. The dark circles under his eyes taunted him, and he ran a hand there to press into them, reminding himself of his recent lack of sleep.

Locke turned his face to the side, dipping the blade into the lukewarm water and dragging it slowly over his skin before swishing it in the water and repeating the motion down another strip of hairs.

The gentle babble of the water when he rinsed the blade soothed him for a bit.

* * *

He remembered the first time he shaved in front of Celes.

" _That blade is rather dull isn't it?"_ She'd asked him rhetorically, flicking her out her own that he had given her from the sleeve of her blouse.

She leveled his face in her hands, light blue eyes scanning his face back and forth, as she gently pressed the blade to his face, facial expressions tensing with focus.

He waited until she rinsed the blade to tell her: "I think you need to press a little harder."

She looked at him silently, and for a moment he was worried she would take his criticism to heart, or at the very least withdraw her fingers from the edge of his jaw and he didn't want her to do that.

But she did none of those things, taking his advice in confidence and reapplying the blade to him again while applying more pressure.

Her fingers didn't shake the way his would have.

It wasn't a perfect shave, but she did it was well as anyone with an oversized blade could have, little nicks that stung here and there. He ran his hands over his face afterward and tossed the knife back to her.

"Thanks, Chere. You can have that back."

She rolled her eyes. "What am I supposed to do with this thing exactly? Rob someone?"

He shrugged. "Having your sword is a luxury. Sometimes it's best to have luxuries that others don't know about."

That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Locke shaved a gaunt face now, weathered with numbed worry and shame.

" _She'll forgive you."_

Terra's words echoed in his mind and he took them in, moving clumsily to the bed as he pressed a towel to his face. He dropped it to the floor and pulled the blankets back to lay down. The sheets were cool and he covered himself, willing his body heat to bring him warmth.

He assured Terra that Celes was alright but he wasn't exactly sure.

He'd paid close attention to the gossip from Vector. There was word of Celes' return but not much else. She could be back in her comfy chambers of the citadel or back in chains in the dungeon for all he knew, but either way there was nothing he could do to reach her without reaching the Esper realm first.

As the drug induced wave of sleep sedated him, he thought that if Terra was correct in her definition of love then he supposed that he loved Celes too.

* * *

A/N: This chapter came out unexpectedly so I just went with it! I loved the song I mentioned earlier and played it on repeat with some red wine and voila! Now the next chapter actually won't be written for a while and I mean that for real this time since I have people coming for the holiday over this next week. Thanks for reading and happy 4th!


	14. De Profundis

**De Profundis**

* * *

Their breaths were heavy and labored as they sparred. They'd emerged from the desert to the lush greenlands surrounding the mountain ranges of Narshe. The moisture of their lush surroundings left them covered in sweat from the moment they'd opened their eyes at dawn, and was exacerbated by the acceleration in their heartbeats.

"I suppose the teach Generals to cheat these days." Locke huffed at her breathlessly, and her eyes fell to the feeble footing he now had on a fallen tree, barely maintaining it's position as a crosswalk on a riverbank under his weight.

She smiled in satisfaction: She'd outsmarted him despite the grueling recovery from her wounds. "It's not cheating."

She took a step further, planting her foot levelly over the base of the tree trunk, forcing him to move backwards across it's base, placing him directly over the rapids of the river.

"Do you concede?" She taunted him.

"Of course not." He countered, swinging forward in an attempt to startle her into losing her footing.

"Then you know how this ends?"

Locke gulped. "I die a horrible death in the rapids below?"

Celes would laughed had it been in any other context, but in this one she knew that he wanted to watch her off guard.

"Perhaps you will." She stated, her sword pointed directly at him.

He opened his mouth to say something- perhaps to offer a surrender, and by doing so lost his footing for a moment against the slick moss of the tree, he tilted backwards and she dropped her sword and reached for him with her opposite hand, stabilizing him with the strength of her forearm and shoulder flexed. He dropped a knife into the rapids below to grab the appendages with both hands as his legs stiffened.

"Alright. Chere," He declared somewhat breathlessly, "You get to pick the campsites from now on, alright?"

* * *

The night she was reinstated as a General was a strange one.

Celes entered the hall lined by Imperial figureheads who saluted her in unison as she passed, a far cry from their jeering that took place when she stood on trial only days earlier. Leo had welcomed her with open arms, but no one else certainly did.

She felt alone as she stood in the shadowy hall lit by mere primitive torches behind the backs of the soldiers that lined the wall, all standing at attention for her.

Her ceremonial armor clinked with every step, echoing in the silence of the chamber where the only breath that could be heard was Gestahl's.

She stopped a mere few feet from where he stood waiting for her, and knelt with her head bowed. Her hair was donned in an unfamiliar tightly wound bun, one like what she wore in the early days of her tenure, when her head was concealed under the confines of a helmet.

"You left us a traitor." Gestahl declared to the chamber, and she only listened submissively.

"But you've returned to us an invaluable and wise advocate for peace and for the future of our Empire."

The bitter taste of her own urine returned to her in that moment, when it was forced down her throat by some low ranking privates who found humor in her every sputter and gasp. Sure, her return was somewhat voluntary, after she gave her terms to Leo who in turn related them to Gestahl who called for Kefka's arrest and inprisonment.

* * *

"I hear you will be a General again tomorrow." He told her that morning, when she gathered the motivation to visit with him in his cell one last time. "Doesn't it terrify you?"

Celes sat on a stool across from him. They were alone in the cell, sure, but the guards directly outside monitoring their communication made it hardly a private conversation.

"Why would I be terrified?" Celes asked him flatly. She was used to Kefka's games enough to know that emotion was not something she'd wanted to show him. Her request to seek for him had raised many eyebrows amidst her return. She knew how to handle Kefka, and he saved a particularly more humane side of himself fo her, despite the fact that he was sitting across from her chained in exchanged devices, where all she would have to do it lift a finger and his own Magitek ability would be used against him.

She didn't do that.

"Because whatever direction Gestahl takes, your friends will always be _rebels_." He jeered, giving the last word prominence in his point.

"My 'friends'?" Celes blinked twice and cocked her to the side, emotionless.

"Don't be coy, darling. It doesn't suit those _lovely_ _eyes_."

Celes said nothing.

Kefka sighed and continued. " _Yes_ , your friends. The wretched traitor King and his brother, the fugitive magical wench, the dumb-witted thief, the..."

Her thoughts wandered as he cleverly listed off the remainder of her comrades, and she allowed him to do so without much stir from her. There was a certain danger in seeking an audience with Kefka.

"I will accept the order to carry out your execution when it comes time." She cut him off.

Kefka looked at her for a moment, eyes blank as he interpreted her statement.

"Oh dear... does that mean it's over between us? No wedding? No insatiable fucking? No kids?"

Celes twitched visibly. " _What_ did you say?"

Kefka's lips curled.

"You mean Cid never told you? That's why Gestahl will never execute you. He'll do what it takes to keep you around. And he won't execute me either."

Celes dismissed him immediately. "I am not a biological experiment for breeding. Don't be so ridiculous with your lies."

Kefka didn't acknowledge the rebuttal. "Making me and you what we are was costly. The intent is to create a master race, with you as it's mother."

Celes' thoughts were swimming. His musings were ridiculous and distracting, though they held some credence.

"Your womb will carry my fruit someday." Kefka hissed, thrusting his head forward through the restraint of the chains, "And I'll take you willingly, or otherwise." He grinned.

Celes rose, motioning for the guard to unlock the cell. She closed her eyes and brought her hands to her temples.

"I was hoping for a different sense of closure, Kefka. I'm afraid I've had enough of you already."

Kefka's expression changed as a series of locks clicked and turned behind her, the preliminary to her exit from the chamber.

"Blue skies. Sweet apple trees. Silk dresses. Grandchildren by the mile, running on top of piles of buried corpses, unknown to them. We wait out the rain under a lovely canopy. Blue eyes under blue skies."

Kefka's eyes were wide as he spoke, the costume makeup running down his face by his sweat.

"Pardon me?"

Kefka continued. "These were the things promised to you, and your birth parents, as long as you were promised to me."

Celes narrowed her eyes, maintaining contact with him as the cells doors opening and released her. She exited the dungeon, feeling the maddening eyes that watched her the entire way.

* * *

Celes accepted the honors and turned to face the silent room as a military medal was fastened about her neck. She turned and saluted Gestahl and left the chamber as slowly and painfully as she'd come.

That night, she awoke suddenly; she wasn't sure if it was nightmare or a dream that simply stressed her out to experience.

It was a memory, however distant she wasn't sure, where she was little and had been dragged by a hyper dog across the ground, and a younger, milder Kefka pulled her to her feet despite her skinned knees and the tears that ran down her face.

" _Don't cry,"_ He pleaded with her, _"Look, the birds on your dress are kissing."_

She'd looked down at her dress and sure enough in blue embroidery over white cloth, two bluebirds kissed by the beak.

She didn't recall seeing him, though she felt his presence as she resumed climbing a tree limb by limb, scanning the ground below.

* * *

The morning after she swung a sword at a trainer. He was larger man, though he was quick enough the dodge her when she rushed him and to parry her every swing. He was an Imperial Captain trained in swordplay.

"Your technique has remained flawless." A booming voice reverberated against the stone walls around her.

Celes paused, causing her sparring partner to drop his defense.

"It appears that time has changed, but not much else." Leo descended the stairs before her, sword drawn and in hand.

Celes smirked. "It certainly has. I can still take two of you." She motioned to the sparring partner who silently raised his sword to Leo's height as the two closed in on her.

Celes raised and angled her own sword accordingly, knees bent and stepping backwards.

* * *

"Your mother was a great beauty," Gestahl told her one night when he requested her company for a private audience.

"She died during childbirth, and your father was a wealthy trade merchant- hardly equipped to care for a child on his own."

"So he offered me willingly, in the name of science?" Celes questioned, standing still in the throne room as the elderly man paced around her in circles.

"Yes. Cid himself knew him by name."

"What was my mother's name?" Celes queried.

"I don't know."

"Does Cid know?"

An almost wicked smile spread across the Emperor's features. "He ought to. He loved her for years before then. It was how he got the referral."

Celes stiffened, sensing a hint of Gestahl's manipulation. She was still interested in what he had to say.

"How come _you_ never spoke of my parents, all the times that I asked for them?"

"Dear Celes," Gestahl's features softened as he faced her, illuminated only by the lone stream of moonlight above from the chamber's window. "I think of you as a daughter myself. I couldn't bear to bring you such pain."

"And now is different because..." She questioned boldly.

Gestahl nodded. "Because you've proven yourself. As a warrior, a woman, and a daughter."

* * *

Gestahl was plotting something. She didn't know what, and wasn't entirely sure that he meant her former comrades' goodwill as he welcomed them into the Capital. She watched from a window, sipping a glass of wine in her hand.

She felt stronger, safer, _happier_ than she had in over a year, since before her supposed 'betrayal' of the Empire.

But she watched as a familiar handsome face strolled up the steps of the citadel, and she could instantly mark where every hidden weapon on him was retained.

She frowned. She didn't want to see him again, she wanted him to be but a distant memory who appeared in sweet dreams like the teenage Kefka. A dream where the stained glass windows of the Opera House danced across their naked bodies, after he'd unlocked her chains and camped as she bathed in the river afterwards.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! The game left Celes' transition back to the Empire somewhat ambiguous, and though I planned on offering more explanation to that I'm afraid I've still left it so. More to come however! Now that we are caught up to Locke's original one shot chapter there's plenty more to go around.

The title and the nature of this chapter was inspired by the letter written by Oscar Wilde during his imprisonment in Reading Gaol.


	15. The Stranger Part II

The Stranger Part II

* * *

The mild lull of the ocean unsettled him. Locke couldn't recall when he last had such a toxic hangover- he was about eighteen?

He lay in his bunk with his arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed and skin flushed and clammy as he willed himself to think of anything over that the rocking of the ship and the sour churn of his stomach.

He'd been on a ship this size many times before with his father. Once with his feet dangling from the stern, both hands grasped at the base of a fishing pole while the sun set against his back. The crew knew his father was no fisherman, but Locke had a particular wit unbecoming of a young boy that won them over and he'd captured a large sea bass that put a majority of them to shame when compared to anything they could brag of in their nets or their traps.

Not to mention he only went below deck when it rained, and that was only by his father's demand. The water droplets fell from the sky, vibrating against the churning waves of the ocean in a deafening hum, causing his father to call him into the safety below, where they sat huddled on a bed that they shared wrapped in a blanket.

Locke shuddered at the memory of the chill, however the lurch from his stomach disturbed the memory and he rolled to his side to the bucket placed strategically at the side of his bed as he hurled into it.

He heard Sabin stir from the bunk across from him.

"Man, I can't _stand_ puke." His friend grimaced at him, brows furrowed. "You need to get out of here right now or I'm going to need that bucket."

Locke wiped his mouth with back of his hand, nodding agreeably at Sabin's words. Bile and bitterness burned his throat in a familiar putrid sting.

He stumbled slowly through the hall, ignoring judgmental stares from the Empire's troops that lingered there, hand over his mouth and vision blurry.

He had been on ships before; he wasn't seasick. He simply had too much to drink the night before.

After his encounter with Celes the night before, he found a tavern where he had several drinks-losing count after six and stopping only when the bartender cut him off over the grey lights of dawn.

Celes was no longer on his mind, and his world was reduced to the limb by limb effort of his steps back to the inn, to which he never made it, settling for a rather soft looking pile of folded fabrics outside a seamstress store, waking only when a concerned Cyan sought him out to drag him aboard the ship.

When he saw her again it ruined the haze of forgetfulness. She stood before him upright, healthy, strong, beautiful and he could barely squint against the sunlight of day without a drunken sway.

She didn't have much to say to him anyway.

When he dragged himself aboard the deck of the ship again he made a beeline for the edge, ignoring the Imperials who stood in a circle, all turning to watch him grasp the side of the ship and vomit over the edge into the waves below.

"Are you alright?" Leo chuckled, approaching him from behind and slapping a strong hand against his back, sending him feebly forward again to rest his chest against the side of the ship, arms dangling over the side with loose fingers bouncing gently amidst the rocking of the ship.

"Yeah." Locke said weakly, before conjuring a simple white lie. "I get seasick." He looked to the general, fully awake of the sunken nature of his eyes from dehydration.

He watched as Leo sized him up, expression full of pity. His dark eyes held a glimpse of almost paternal concern before they settled on his, and his facial features suddenly changed to a more ignorant and stern one, disregarding the terrible shape that Locke knew he looked to be in.

"We're almost at Crescent Island. When we disembark, we'll split into two groups. Celes and I will form one group. Terra will go with you and Shadow. Be alert for Espers."

Locke nodded, warranting the general to walk to the cabin below to relay more orders. He saw Celes in his peripheral and turned away from her, though her figure followed him in his field of vision until she was standing beside him.

"Locke."

He'd nearly forgotten when her voice was like during their time apart. It bothered him at first, to where he'd lay awake at night trying to recall the distinct low but feminine pitch. Her voice was soft, but distinct and commanded his attention with every word she spoke. He closed his eyes.

"Hey, I..."

He heard her trail off on an inquisitive note, but did little to engage her. With every ounce of his being, he turned away from the side of the ship and from her. He couldn't be up on the deck anymore, as it turned out he was getting sicker up there than he had below.

"Come on." He replied casually, leading any onlooker to think nothing more of their exchange than a pompous drunken thug disrespecting a high ranking Imperial Officer.

There was no sign of impromptu commitments in dark cellars, no floods of discovery in the desert or desire in the mountain snows of Narshe or the sunny halls of the Opera house. There were no parties in Jidoor or awkward flights aboard an airship. He'd never seen her pain and she'd never seen his. Perhaps he was a thief, sent to ravage her Empire's ship at sea under the guise of a sick young man collecting pity from her allies.

Celes appeared more concerned than she did offended though, light blue eyes more sorrowful than angry as she watched him walk away; she was perfectly self assured and for all he knew he was but a stranger to her.

He once compared her to a ghost, though he could now see she was anything but. In the bright sunlight her flesh glowed a tanned complexion under her blonde locks, her freckles darkened amongst layers of blood vessels and worry lines. When she breathed the upper ribs of her chest flattened against her flesh in a sullen rhythm. She was as alive as he could fathom, and with all the time he'd spent dwelling on the dead he felt as if he were somewhere in between.

* * *

A/N: This one was shorter than normal but I didn't want to go any further in the story just yet and wanted to keep it simple as the second part of the first chapter! Sorry for the delay it had been a busy (and fun) month! I will hopefully have the next chapter up soon. It will get angsty for a bit here, folks!


	16. The Grave

**The Stranger**

 **The Grave**

* * *

Celes wedged the shovel into the ground. Another sunset, another grave. This one hurt her unlike any before.

She summoned the force of her bodyweight against the girth of the shovel, scooping the dirt and swinging it over her shoulder to the pile of dirt that she made beside the grave.

"Let me."

Her arms fell limp and she turned over her shoulder to the man who spoke.

It was Cyan, he shed his shirt in preparation for the effort.

Celes squinted. "Leo was a man of the Empire. He is mine to bury."

Cyan exhaled deeply, stepping into the shallow pit she had made and gently took the handle of the shovel from her.

"He was a man of our world, a good man. And I must play a part in his burial."

Celes accepted his offer and clapped her hands together, beating the dirt from them and stepping out of the grave. She eyed several of her companions present: Sabin, Locke, and Edgar stood just inches from where Cyan had stood, with Gau somewhere in the distance, still among the low hanging branches of the trees.

Celes took a steep step from the grave and grabbed for the loose dirt that served as walls, only to be greeted by a familiar firm hand. Setzer had emerged and pulled her from the dirt, taking care to brush the dust from the back of her shoulders as she attempted to brush him off.

"You look as though you were born in this horrible place." He murmured, eyebrows raising as she met his gaze with a stern response.

"I _wasn't_ born in this horrible place and I will offer no apology for the way that I may look to you." She replied sharply, and the gambler smirked and left her to sink down the base of an elderly evergreen tree on her own. He instead wandered to the far side of the grave, sitting himself down with his feet dangling in the pit where Cyan dug, as if to offer silent relief for when Cyan grew tired, only inches away from Leo's covered corpse.

Terra approached from the wood line and sat with her in silence.

Celes swallowed hard. In the middle of everything that happened she couldn't help but to feel slightly responsible for the turmoil that the girl had felt.

"I heard you got your memory back." Celes spoke finally, nudging Terra with the slightest motion of her elbow.

Terra shrugged, replying sweetly. "Some of it, not all."

Celes huffed. "You don't want to see all, believe me. It's for the best."

Terra blinked, brushing off Celes' comment. "I don't remember _him_ at all."

"You were on separate campaigns."

"Oh."

Celes felt Terra's eyes dart from her to the corpse to the grave. She offered no soft words, no reconciliation, she was saving those for after the burial when there was no one left but herself and Leo's body in the dirt.

"He has a wife and several children." Celes spoke again, sensing the younger girl wanted to listen, and ignoring Locke's emerging figure settling on the ground next to Terra.

"He was always so gentle, especially when his wife was around. His oldest daughter was on track to become a scholar."

Terra listened, completely still. Cyan was hard at work, scooping the dirt and pouring it in a pile next to them and Locke sat with his elbows resting on his knees, brown eyes squinting hard at Cyan.

"They must be devastated." Terra replied.

"They don't know yet." Celes reminded her flatly.

Terra flinched, turning to Celes, "So you..."

"When I return from this, I will visit them and tell, yes."

Terra blinked, "Is there someone else maybe?"

Celes shook her head. "No. It has to be me."

* * *

Celes thought of sunnier days, when Leo had invited her into his home that was tended to by the beautiful woman that he made his wife, her red head glistening in the sunlight, reflecting that of his daughters that bore his last name and his wife's features. The youngest was barely three, waddling behind her like a drunken animal. Celes had giggled and scooped the toddler up him her arms as the mother fussed.

"You're just like your father, aren't you." She told the child, who only cooed at her restlessly, willing to be put down. Celes did so, and watched the child wander off in the safe walled confines of Leo's estate.

"She's going to be trouble, that one." Celes told Leo as he emerged from behind.

"She'll be a woman in her own right then, like you."

Celes laughed and shook her head, watching his wife assist the servants in setting the outdoor table for dinner.

"She'll be trouble, trust me."

"You know something of that then?"

Celes turned to face him, and her eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head.

"I wish I did in entirety. My memories of being so obscure are only muddled. What experience I can offer is only in glimpses."

Leo slowly sipped the long-stemmed glass of red wine in his hand in silence.

"But you still know more than me about being a free spirit, then."

Celes laughed. "I still know more about that, yes."

* * *

Locke grasped the side of the pit, pulling his own jacket and shirt from the hem of his wait and tapping Cyan by the shoulder.

"I can get it from here, pal."

Cyan turned to look at him, eyes widened beofre relaxing his muscled and passinf the handle of the shovel to the younger man.

"That'll be fine then."

Locke accepted the tool and worked, the new sinew from around his muscles pumping hard under the effort under the setting sun, his gaze ad his eyes never settling on Celes.

"What'll you do next?" Terra asker her, eyes wide in genuine wonder as they watched Locke work under the supervision of the remainder of the Returners.

"I'll finish him." Celes replied, noting the flinch that resounded from Locke's form, only visible for her.

Locke perspired, the hard tan lines from various days of work skipped up her bare arms and torso, leaving sweat to settle over the belt loops of his britches.

"I will, too." Terra replied and Celes only smiles softly at her in response. It was a nice sentiment, though Celes was sure she wanted Kefka all for herself, and was sure that only she could take him. Terra was a hard second.

"If you don't come back from this, I'm certain he'll go mad." Terra whispered to her after a bit, and while Celes respected the sentiment, she felt a little off put by the comment.

"He already _is_ a bit off-put isn't he?" Celes questioned, and Terra offered what was a distance silence in agreement, but Celes only watch the wiry muscles move from under his skin, pushing the shovel into the dirt with the core of his body, and pulling upwards from his legs and arms, scooping the dirt and hauling it into a pile above him, sweat collecting at the base of his chest and back.

* * *

On the floating continent, Celes walked with her sword as a crutch.

"Emperor Gestahl, please stop this madness." She pleaded, breathless.

In truth, her entire destiny had been realized to her among Kefka's words and Leo's passing. But she needed Gestahl to be true to the younger version of herself that had grown up in his shadow, fond and enthusiastic. The light front the statues cast glowing murderous figures across her face, but her right hand remained clutched to her sword.

"Celes," The Emperor grinned at her eerily.

"Come to me, my pretty! You and Kefka were given life to serve me!" He explained, his eye widening maddeningly at her, "It is your birthright to rule to world with me!"

So Kefka's words to her in the prison were true. Celes blinked back tears at the realization that her only bain of existence was summarized from a single man's will for power.

"I had hoped you would be twins," Emporer Gestahl grinned at her greedily, "But it didn't work that way. I had to be patient, _oh_ so patient for you to come along! When a righteous family under my command bore a daughter with all the right genotypes to compliment my Kefka, can you imagine my joy?"

Celes circled her former master, sword pointed at his throat.

Kefaka only looked at her calmly. "Kill the others and we'll overlook at your treachery!"

Celes' aim faltered. She only watch Kefa with a discouraged aim; he was to the her couterpart, the father of her children, the Magitek Prince who would bring about the power necessary to light the darkness.

"Take this sword." He told her, brandishing a newly forged weapon under the tips of his fingers. "Take care of them immediately."

Gestahl spoke up again, his feeble elderly hands sprading white in the air before her as he made his proclaimation. "Celes, together we can rule an entire world. Think of it!"

She thought of it. She thought of Gestahl's entire vision from the beginning. She was unsure of whether it was the power of her own Magitek or from the faint memory of her own but she recalled a fair maiden, blonde in hair color and eyes blue, married to a wealthy merchant who promised her a large mansion of her own by the sea as she'd always fantasized.

Eight months after their wedding her womb was swollen with a child, who the officials from the Empire promised her a lifetime of wealth for collecting her blood and possibly the child. The maiden agreed to the terms- with all the visits and checkins from the Empire the child hardly felt like her own and the husband seemed indifferent.

When the child was born she wasn't sure what the status of the newborn was of whether it was even a boy or girl, as it was wrenched from her arms as soon as she could hold it, the high pitched cries echoeing into a late summer night.

* * *

"Power only breeds war." Celes proclaimed. She refused the sword from Gestahl and maintained her own.

" _I wish I'd never been born."_ Celes declared as she drove her blade through Kefka; she felt the resistance of his insides; the flippant flicker of his diaphragm, the fading beat of his heart, the rugged shudder of his lungs.

Kefka's eyes opened to her wide. He gaped, then frowned and slumped against her, then sneered. She found that she couldn't blame him, and as the waves of pain from his magic washed over her she couldn't resist; he was hers to hurt and she was his. They were twins the the per diabolical plot gone awry.

His pleas to the statues were only a blur, all she knew was that her blade was bloody and plunged with purpose, as it was meant to.

She heard Gestahls' pleas being countered only in measured responses from her Emperor.

Celes faded to with midst of fire and nothingness. She only gave what she could, remembering the fields of wheats from the training sessions of her childhood and the shrill cry that escaped Kefka's lips but her stabbed him.

She remembered the gentle sigh that Locke awarded her when she lifted her her top over her shoulder and she sank herself down upon him. His hands gripped her shoulders and she grasped his wrists for support and the lasting lights of day faded over their bodies. He uttered her name in her ear and she only gasped.

She wanted to be able to hurt the other as Gestahl commanded, but she couldn't. Her only truth resounded:

" _I wish I'd never been born."_

* * *

A/N: Thanks once again for reading after such a break! I managed to crank this out today, though the next chapter won't be out until next week because of my work schedule. I'm a tired and cranky ED travel nurse with a drinking habit putting this all as a means to decompress on my off time so I will not be off until next week! Thanks for all the reads/follows/reviews so far!


	17. Flightless Bird

Flightless Bird

A/N: Some casual gore in this chapter, be warned!

* * *

At first, there was darkness. Then there was dim light to his slightly parted eyelids speckled with bits of ash and debris.

His body felt like a stone, limp and weak. But his consciousness moved at a dizzying velocity that at times made him feel nauseous. There was a voice, feminine and sweet with soft hands that moved over him with damp cloths and smooth fabric.

Terra? No. _It was Rachel._

He didn't have the strength to open his eyes to see her. In his delirium he speculated whether he was living or dead and could only conclude that he dwelled on whatever plane Rachel was on.

Then there were a collection of voices, different sets of hands that carried and turned him, and a cold sensation of a metal instrument being pressed to various places on his chest.

"I think he's stable. If he doesn't wake in a few days come find me."

He heard Rachel acknowledge the order and drifted off again.

* * *

The days that followed her accident were some of the worst in his life, second only to the day she died. He'd lost her thrice, the first time being her fall; he'd searched for her frantically in the river beneath the bridge, tears flooding his eyes as he screamed her name, hands shaking as he ran along it's bank in the darkness of the save, until he found her with blood running from her nose and various cuts ans scrapes, her dress torn and wet from the current of the water. The second time through her amnesia, and the third came with her death, where she appeared to dream and look just as peaceful as that moment he found her washed up by the river.

The night before all that, he danced with her at a wedding in a barn in Kohlingen, where the dark tresses of her hair were made slick with sweat and she laughed as he twirled her around amid the gas lanterns.

He'd pulled her away later that night to their lake in the woods where he pressed her against a tree and kissed her where the only light around them were the fireflies and the crescent moon.

* * *

When his eyes opened, a curtain of dark hair faced him. He opened his mouth and croaked, causing him to cough up the dust irritating his throat.

Rachel turned abruptly to face him- though he realized it wasn't Rachel. It was a different woman, probably as young as she but with brown eyes like his and a large circular birthmark on her right cheek.

She ran to him and leaned him forward to sit up as she pressed a glass of water to his lips. He sipped gratefully and coughed some more.

She introduced herself as Iris, and she was the daughter of a doctor who traveled the continent.

"The world has changed." She told him, and when he was well enough to stand she walked him outside where he understood that her words were in a literal, climate and land formation sense rather than a vague summation of society in general as he'd thought.

They were on his home continent, though he'd never heard of the town before.

Sometimes at night she barricaded the door and the shutters on the windows, bringing her finger to her lips in the candlelight.

"What's wrong?" He asked her the first time it happened.

"Kefka's followers." She told him, "Sometimes they come and collect villagers to participate in their rituals."

"That sounds like a cult." Locke told her.

"Because it is." Her kind eyes grew wide as she spoke, "When you leave here, beware of those in green."

* * *

It wasn't until several days of being awake that it hit him that he was one of the lucky few to survive the events of the Floating Island, and the geographical altering of the world.

Celes had attempted to save them in a final act of courage and foolishness, much like something that he reminded himself he would've done.

" _I wish I'd never been born."_ Her voice was dark and bitter, like the first sip of a cabernet after cake at a funeral.

Celes lived a life of a wounded animal: strong willed and temperamental, with the drive to survive and the savage bite when backed into a corner. Her drive to kill as natural to her as her drive to love. She was both sensitive and savage, and he was tired of her haunting his dreams at night.

He rescued her once, and she hadn't needed his protection since. But the new ache in his heart was for her, knowing that he could no longer do anything for her.

* * *

"What were doing when you fell, Locke?" Iris asked him one evening, sliding her clasped hands over her crossed legs in front of the lit fireplace.

Locke's mind wandered. He couldn't find it in himself to tell her the truth, it was too complicated.

"I was looking to help someone, someone who has passed on."

Iris looked at him, eyes wide. "Oh? A girlfriend?"

He smiled. He found that women were always far more intuitive than given credit for.

"Yeah. My girlfriend."

"You were searching for the Phoenix Cave, then."

* * *

During one of their walks around the village Locke halted Iris with a hand, and crouched downward, leaning on his cane for support.

A seagull flitted it's wings upon the ground by a dried fountain, and he calmly attempted to coax the animal into letting him investigate it's obvious injury.

"You'll make him panic to death!" Iris exclaimed, "Don't go any closer. Let me!" She eased Locke into a sitting position as the bird continued to flap it's wings frantically.

Iris took off for her house, reemerging several minutes later with a rag wrapped around an unknown substance and a salve in a mortar bowl. She knelt cautiously before the bird, pale arm extending just far enough to wave the rag in front of the creature, eventually causing it to relax limply upon the ground.

"What did you..."" Locke's eyes were wide at the bird's still body.

"It's okay, it'll wear off."

He nodded at her, acknowledging that it was her skill that saved his life in the first place.

He scooped up the bird with one hand as Iris braced him and leaned his weak leg against the cane. They walked together to her home, several villagers eyeing them inquisitively.

He washed the animal with a gentle stream of water and applied Iris' salve from the bowl. When finished, he pulled his bandana from his beltloop and tore a strip of it off to hold the bandage to the wound.

"Not too tightly," Iris told him, "Whoever finds him next will need to get it up easily if he is to recover fully.

Locke tied a simple knot obediently.

* * *

The next morning the bird was gone. Locke's eyes scanned the room for his caretaker, only to find she was gone from her usual perch on the sofa. He changed his bandages as he'd witnessed Iris do hundreds of times and dressed himself slowly, easing a clean shirt over the now marred surface that was his chest and stomach.

Locke stepped outside, cane in tow, to find villagers gathered around a spectacle in the square. His eyes squinted in the direct sunlight as he hobbled towards it, thinking Iris would be in the crowd.

He'd grown fond of her company as the single familiar face in a strange new world.

He found her at the center of the spectacle, with limp hands bound above her head at the base of the empty water fountain. Her dark eyes absent from their sockets and dried blood trailed from her open lips and her mouth, her skin pale and mottled blue.

Locke's stomach churned and a stifled cry resounded from his mouth. Startled villagers parted the way for him as he walked clumsily her way, pulling a knife from his waist and using it to cut her arms down, though rigor mortis had sent in and her limps were too stiff to settle naturally.

It'd been at least several hours. After he'd fallen asleep she must've gone out for a walk. The birthmark on her cheek was covered with dry blood, and he wanted to hide it all and to forget this horrible scene completely.

The sounds around him were muffled as someone grabbed his arm to console him and he shoved them roughly off of him. He pulled the remainder of the bandana from his waist and covered her eye sockets with it.

In the hours that followed he released her body to her father, who wept loudly in the middle of the square. She was covered and returned to her home in preparation for a funeral the following day, but Locke was unable to return while her assailants were still at large, as it didn't take much for him to discover their identity. Iris had set out to gather herbs as she often did in then evenings, falsely assuming the cult wasn't at large.

* * *

At the grey lights of dawn he finally found the animal trail through the forest to where Kefka's cult gathered. He felt heart broken and empty, a void that could only be filled with revenge and Rachel, but he couldn't move on until he handled one last bit of business for the woman who resuscitated him.

The first green-hooded member knelt sitting at the cave entrance and a single swipe to the throat left him gasping and bleeding.

Locke continued into the cave, claiming the lives of every single inhabitant one by one as they slept and died drenched in their own blood.

The largest cavern housed the ringleader, a broad shouldered man before an alter lit with incense. He hummed an out worldly and haunting song that would've unsettled Locke otherwise, though in his current state of mind his adrenaline buzzed through his heart and bled into his ears.

The ringleader was young, and turned to Locke, the hood failing to cover his surprised eyes.

Locke gripped him by the neck and slammed him against the wall of the cavern.

"Why her!?" Locke snarled at the man, whose eyes moved from surprise to recognition to smugness.

"If she only complied she would've been just fine. Lord Kefka, our God will reward us."

Locke's cane dropped to the side as his grip on the man intensified, and he gripped the blade that slaughtered the lesser participants. It was slick from his hasty handiwork in cleaning between kills.

"Your _what_?"

The ringleader smiled. "You don't know? It was _he_ that ordered a sacrifice for nonconformity in that town."

Locke's weak leg trembled, and he searched the man's eyes for understanding.

"Kefka ordered this?"

The ringleader raised a hand slowly, as if in an attempt to calm the grieving man.

" _Lord_ Kefka."

Locke's brow furrowed. "I don't _care_ what you think he is. Any God that commands you to commit acts of terror on the innocent is not a God that anyone should conform to."

Locke's final words were pressurized, as if building to the momentum with which he stabbed the man's throat, piercing it in a single clean incision that spilled blood over his clothes that Iris had gathered and cleaned for him.

Locke slid his back down the wall afterwards, exhausted and bitter. He was bitter at the world from taking the ones who he cared for, and bitter at himself to stealing away into a cave in the night to murder people in their sleep. He felt anger at Kefka for the needless suffering brought to the world, and bitter at Celes for leaving him just before he'd need her the most.

Perhaps she'd pull him out of it, telling him how foolish and unnecessary this act of violence was on the grand scale of things, perhaps she'd help him obtain revenge. Perhaps she'd have rescued him herself, and he'd never have met Iris or developed a fondness for her.

* * *

Iris' funeral was performed later that day, her body lowered to the ground with wreaths of bluebells and lavender. Locke couldn't attend, as by the time he hobbled back to the village he was covered from head to toe in blood. He stripped the bloody clothes and bathed in Iris' home, scrubbing the blood from his skin and picked out new clothes that she had folded for him days prior. He grabbed a pack and filled it with the dry fruits and bottles of water she'd collected. He paused as he found the bottle of whiskey she'd forced him to swig out of before a particularly nasty dressing change. _'_

 _It is necessary'_ He decided and placed it in his bag.

The town square was empty and quiet as he crossed it, leaving the village in the direction of his destination, though he wasn't sure where that was. If he wanted Rachel to rise form the dead he'd have to find the rumored Phoenix cave himself.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter done! One of the things I've enjoyed doing with this fic is to add more meaning to scenes/concepts that I find already amazing, and write them to contain as much meaning to the characters as possible while still keeping everything as canon as possible. This is what I was hoping to achieve by the Locke/wounded bird scene in the chapter because we all (I'm assuming) know where that bird ends up.

Though it was only a brief portrayal, I view Kefka's cult the way I view any real cult: a crazy group of people looking for meaning, with some members more extreme than the others, and the branch in this chapter is obliviously more extreme than others.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I've been thinking about how I want to write it for a long time: Celes waking up on the lonely island!


	18. Scapegoat

**Scapegoat**

* * *

"What happened to the others?"

"The inhabitants? When I awoke here there were two others, but they couldn't stay here any longer. I helped them make a raft so that they could escape this place. You were in no condition to be moved, and I couldn't bring myself to leave you."

The sun was beginning to set over the vast horizon.

Cid nodded to her. "Check the traps, wouldja?"

Celes nodded and waded out into the shallows as she's watched him do, pulling a rope anchored in the water to bring in the basket traps Cid had set up offshore.

"I'll always be in your debt, it seems." Celes murmured. She saw him turn to her at the corner of her eye as her words registered to him.

"You're not in anyone's debt, Celes." Cid replied warmly, "A father does what he must for his daughter, no?"

Celes froze, her hands tight on the rope with her bare feet anchoring her in her water as she swayed.

"Pardon me?"

"I've never had children of my own." Cid said sadly, "And when you were brought to me you were just a tiny little thing, unafraid and untainted like all the other children I attempted treatment on. Caring for you all this time has been my privilege."

Celes looked back down at the water, the evening tide churning around the heels of her feet.

"-When you were captured and detained and I didn't hear from you, I worried about you every day. It was like food had no taste, and my research no longer had purpose. _You've_ always been my purpose, Celes."

She blinked back a rush of tears, focused on pulling in the basket full of crab that was now within her view at the surface of the sea.

"You're the closest thing to a family I've ever had." Celes spoke levelly.

"You know, the rest of the world is in ruins. There's rumors of new cults started by desperate people trying to make sense of it all, missing children, senseless violence. We're living in a world of orphans. But you and I, Celes... we could stay here forever and none of it could touch us."

Celes smiled to herself bitterly, blinking back more tears. "I never got to say goodbye to my friends." She spoke with her voice wavering. "I had so much I wanted to tell them. And the last time I saw Locke, I was still so angry with him."

Cid leaned back against the dock, appearing uncharacteristically lazy. His beard had grown out and his figure had become thin, but he was still the same old Cid. She couldn't help but to notice how relaxed and at peace he'd become, as if this island was what he'd wanted all along.

"Ah," He said, his eye twinkling, "Locke, the saboteur from the Returners?"

Celes nodded in silent acknowledgment, reigning in the basket and untying the wet square knots coated in seaweed to release the basket from the rope.

"Something tells me he'd find his way here if he's still out there. I've met many men of his kind in my day. Isn't it funny how critical we are of our last words to one another?"

Celes shook his words off. She didn't want to think about Locke anymore. She instead lifted the basket trap and shook the scuttling crabs on the bottom surface at him.

"I think we've got dinner."

* * *

They lived that way for months.

At night the almost violent crashing of the waves against the rocks of the cliff would both lull her to sleep and pull her from it like the tide. Sometimes her bare feet would pad against the stone floor and she'd find Cid nestled in his sitting area, his favorite armchair facing the window over the sea.

She'd walked to the top of the cliff sometimes and look over the edge. In all of her years of combat she'd never imagined a death as frightening or violent as one that involved falling into the rocks and the waves below.

One night, she spoke to him as she set a teapot on the stove to brew. He didn't reply. She laughed a little, remarking about his age and falling asleep in such an early hour. A cool breeze swept through the window, causing her to rewrap her robe more tightly about her waist.

The teapot whistled, and she poured her cup, stepping softly to the sofa by where he sat, cozily bringing her feet to nudge his knee with it.

Her mug fell to the floor in and shattered into little clay pieces when she saw his face. The moonlight reflected off the ocean water danced across his pallored features, with his eyes open and jaw slack. He was a corpse, dying of natural causes under the same roof, a mere hours after they shared a meal together.

At first she covered him with her robe and paced the room frantically in her nightgown, reverting to a time when she was a child and didn't know what to do with a dead body. She wept into his cold shoulder, frantic and furious with him for leaving her.

The smell was starting to set in by morning, and she forced herself into composure. She wrapped him more securely in blankets and pulled him to the ledge by their home by the collar of her robe, with stones she'd collected as weights fastened to his sides..

She pushed him from the ledge when she was ready, finding herself sobbing from the sudden sting of abandonment, the feeling of helplessness, and the fatigue from hauling his body despite the lack of physical training and malnutrition she'd endured over the months. Luckily the sky was overcast and there was little sunlight to taunt her in her worst of moments.

Celes collapsed at the ledge as she heard the abrupt crash as his body made contact with the surface of the water below. She refused to left herself up, laying there for was seemed like hours with her face against the grass, hearing the hum of insects and the cries of seagulls and nothing else but the crashing of waves that pulled her self proclaimed father out to sea from under it's depths. Her eyes were red with the memory of him, already seeming distant as a single moment on that island seemed like a century.

What was to come? Would she live out her days in the home that Cid had built for her, listening to nothing but water against the rocks?

She felt the slight ghost of rain drops against her cheek and heard the rustle of a coming rain through the trees.

She always had the option to leave- Cid had a raft prepped at the docks from when his original companions had left. And perhaps there was time she'd have left optimistic and eager to greet the outside world.

But more violence and confusion wasn't appealing to her. She lifted her head from the ground and stared over the ledge, watching the water foam against the rocks below.

 _'I need to be higher.'_

* * *

The length of her nightgown clung to her legs in the cool and light fall of rain. Celes skimmed the trail to the top of the mountain with disdain. She nearly backed out because of the rain, but with one foot set forward she convinced herself that she wouldn't back out. Not now.

Her shoes didn't last long- they were cheap flats that stuck in the mud like heavy weights in cement, and so she left them where they sank, unwilling to put forth the effort to take them where she was going.

She continued, the incline of the ground eventually causing a familiar burn in her calves and quads. The rain gained in speed and momentum, and she maintained the same steady and calm pace. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and to any onlooker she must've appeared to be any helpless woman; and stripped of her titles, power, and friends she was.

Kefka would come for her sooner or later, and demand that her power become his to wield and he would take her by force to impregnate her regardless of the carnage it caused. There would be no Sabin or Cyan to come to her aid, no Locke to console her, no Cid to guide her. The world was empty and the life she'd built was gone.

A faint cry echoed against the rain up ahead. Celes paid it no mind at first, focusing on her steps in the mud, the wet earth collecting in a thick layer over he calves and the hem of her dress.

Above her, she realized the culprit of the cry was a young-looking mountain goat caught on something on the slope. She squinted to spot it, but her eyes couldn't focus with the motion of the raindrops. The goat was far off her path among the rocky side of the mountain and she stopped and hesitated.

" _Hell, that might even be a shortcut."_ She told herself. On her way out of this world, what was one more sacrifice?

She hopped up on a rock, searching for ledges to grip her hands on and pulled herself up. The slickness of the mud caused her feet to slide and leave a scant trail of blood against the coarse grain of the rock.

She pulled herself upwards again regardless.

The wailing of the baby goat was louder now, even the loud patter of the rain couldn't drown it out. It squealed and make a sickening choking noise. Celes' hair was plastered against her face now, and the nightgown served as little cover or protection from the rain and the elements. She grabbed for another ledge and her hand slipped, sending her tumbling backwards aways until she fell limply against a dying tree. She slid her bare feet against the ground to steady herself, shaking hands gripping the thick base of the tree as she pushed herself off of it and thrust herself back against the rock.

The slickness of the rain was relentless and she slid backwards again, this time losing her footing completely with her tailbone hitting the ground and sending pain up her spine as the back of her head hit the trunk of the tree. Her vision blacked out for a moment.

The goat continued to cry.

Celes sat up, cursing under her breath and groaning from the pain that shot up her back as she sat up.

She steadied herself against the tree and pushed herself off again.

She climbed more slowly this time. Her palms had been calloused previously from her wielding of the sword but the callouses merely cracked against the next layer of skin and peeled off under the strain of the rough rock. Her feet and hands were bleeding, leaving a tender trail as she pulled herself up the cliff.

The crying goat was louder now, and as she got closer the pitch of the sound was unbearable. She watched it's infantile horns buck against the unknown substance as it kicked all four of it's legs on a ledge before her. She winced and dodged the clumps of dirt brushed up by the animal, her arms now sore and pulsating from the immense strain she'd put on them. The rain was now falling in torrents, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

When Celes finally pulled herself to the ledge the goat screeched and bucked at her more furiously than before. She sat for a moment, breath heaving and back resting against the side of the rock. She looked upward, now able to visibly spot the peak of the cliff that she'd been climbing.

 _'This was all a shortcut after all.'_ She told herself. She inched to the animal and it continued to scream. She spotted a small piece of a fishing net-likely blown in from a storm and had gotten ensnared in both the goat's horn and two rocks in which it was impinged. She attempted to yank it with her hands and the goat screeched and rocked it's antlers hard, nearly crushing her knuckles against the rock. She cursed, sucking air through her teeth as she jumped back and shook her hands loosely to ward off the pain.

Remembering her skill, she summoned a sleep spell that lulled the goat to rest, it's breaths still heaving in panic but it's body falling limp against the floor of the ledge. She worked at the net delicately despite the sticky streams of blood from her fiingers and her palms. It took her some time to find a piece of rock sharp enough to cut through the net, and the moment she did so the animal's eyes opened to reveal black orbs. It snorted and wailed again, causing her to grasp the wall of the ledge as it leaped off in front of her, disappearing into the rain.

Celes looked up again. The top of the cliff wasn't far. She could ease herself back down and return to the path, or she could continue to climb the way she had been. After a moment of thought and the throbbing pulses in her hands and feet, she resorted to the latter.

* * *

The sea hurled around her in a maddening roll of waves. The wind whipped her rain soaked nightgown about, and in it's heavy wetness it slapped at her legs painfully. Hot tears burned her eyes and her heart hammered hard.

Celes didn't want to die. But she didn't want to live in a dying world, either.

She stood for a moment, bloodied feet at the edge so that the slightest curl of her toes could send her over the edge.

"Everyone's gone." She said aloud, as if to reassure herself. Then she was falling- or flying, depending on the view.

* * *

Underneath an apple tree somewhere up north Locke had passed her a flask.

"It's tradition. You have to take some." He smirked at her puzzlement. "We're very serious about traditional values around here."

Celes raised an eyebrow at him, accepting the flask. "Edgar is a King and his favorite article of clothing is his bath slippers."

"He's informal."

She suppressed a laugh and partook of the hard liquor. "And his brother prefers to live in the mountains like a wild animal. And I believe he's the one who started this little 'tradition'." She said, motioning to the flask in her hand as she winced at the drink's potency.

"Tell me how you _really_ feel." He chuckled, remarking on her blunt remarks.

Celes shrugged. "I think I've earned the right. You all have made moves on me like I'm some village floozy."

"None of us think that." Locke told her earnestly, taking the flask back and helping himself to another swig.

"No?" Celes could feel the warmth in her cheeks. The rolling hills outside Kohlingen were brilliantly lush this time of year.

"You're a beautiful woman, Celes. You can't blame us for trying." Locke said softly.

Her cheeks rushed with heat and she shot him a sharp look. He pretended not to notice, curling an arm under his head as he laid back in the grass and held the flask in another. He stretched out so that the hem of his shirt lifted above the edge of his belt.

" _You_ too?" She laughed incredulously at how coyly his eyes met hers.

" _Especially_ me."

She could tell by his smile he was teasing her with his dry wit, but his words rang of some slight portion of truth.

"How is that working for you?" She asked snarkily.

Locke shrugged. "Not great. Your life is far more impressive than mine, so it really dampens the mood when I'm trying to impress you. I need to come up with a better plan."

Celes sighed, exasperated. "Please stop that."

He only winked at her in response.

* * *

Her eyes opened and she lay on the beach, the rush of sunburn and the dryness of her parched lips causing her to lick them. She was thirsty. She needed to find shade.

Celes lifted a weak hand to her face, running her fingers down the bridge of her nose and over her cheeks. She was alive.

It was just her luck that her suicide attempt would be unsuccessful, when she'd lived her entirely life on the brink between survival and self destruction. She looked at the sky, puzzled and angry. Surely, she'd been high enough to die the moment her body collided with the rocks. They should've been impossible to miss.

Seagulls circled over her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled to her stomach, feeling the gentle tide lap at her toes.

More hissing from the ocean. More seagulls. She was furious now, squeezing fistfuls of wet sand and let it ooze through her fingers, until something familiar caught her eye several feet ahead.

A single strip of Locke's bandana danced in the breeze. She stared for a moment, letting it come into focus on it's place over a bird's wing. She inched herself forward on her elbows, dragging her body in the sand and managed to grip the edge of the scrap. That caused the bird to fly off, leaving the strip of fabric in her hand.

Was it a coincidence? She'd never seen the woven pattern on anything else. It had been pulled from a bandana in a deliberate and precise fashion- and whoever it was had intended on tying it to the bird in a knot that could be easily removed.

 _It could only be Locke._

The seagull now circled above her with the rest. She blinked back tears and pressed the fabric to her lips and inhaled deeply. She knew she was delirious- but under the layers of ocean and salt, there was the faint and distinct smell of _him._ She spread the cloth out in her fingers for a moment, watching the birds overhead.

"He's alive." She said to them aloud, and the smile those words elicited was wide enough to make her dry lips crack.

Somewhere in the rocks above her, she heard goats, and the absurdity of it all made her laugh.

* * *

A/N: Around 3-4 parts left! I again took some liberty in changing the dialogue around, and I loved the idea of the "scapegoat" confrontation between Celes and... a mountain goat (if such an island would have such an animal, I don't know- but maybe Kefka just screwed the world up that much.) I was strongly inspired by a particular scene in the Leftovers tv show where a similar character had a far more powerful encounter with a goat in the wilderness.

My head-canon also changed the amount of time that Celes was "out" from a year to maybe a few weeks... I'm an ER nurse and I just can't wrap my head around the atrophy and bodily functions that take place from being in a coma for a year! I'd like to believe she was awake after a month and lived rest of the year out with Cid until he passed away.

Expect more angst, and a reunion coming up eventually. And an ending/epilogue hopefully at least slightly more gratuitous than that portrayed in the game while staying true to everyone's overall story!


	19. The Phoenix

**The Phoenix**

* * *

Years ago, he'd never imagined he'd be present- let alone _invited_ to an event that called for champagne. Even the occasional wedding back in Kohlingen had much more potent and crude drinks. An old comrade engaged him, pressing a narrow glass in his hand with a witty remark which he countered absentmindedly as he sipped the drink, eyes scanning the room until he spotted an enticing cascade of golden blonde waves.

It was there, swaying over the back of a chair lined in white chiffon. The slight tingle and sweet buzz of the beverage gave him only little of the courage that he required.

He sat down the row from her during the ceremony, watching her push a lock behind her ear as she sat, a faint smile on her lips as she watched the happy couple before her. He couldn't open his mouth then, but if he didn't introduce himself tonight he might never let himself live it down.

He excused himself and crossed the floor under the bright lights of the tent. A band of string instruments was playing something slow and slightly playful.

He could see her profile now: feminine almond shaped eyes looking to the floor when a passerby engaged her, lightly tanned skin with a single freckle on her shoulder exposed by the the minimal sleeves on her gown.

He lifted his leg over the back of an empty chair next to her effortlessly and slid into it, scooting the seat forward and looking over his shoulder cautiously to ensure he wasn't blocking passerby as he adjusted the straps of his suspenders.

"Hey." He smiled charismatically at the woman. She only blinked back at him in return. It was then that he noticed the light blue irises that narrowed back at him.

"Hello." She replied. She crossed her arms over the table as she faced him- he identified it as a nervous gesture.

"I, um." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I saw you earlier and thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Locke."

She smiled at him now, accepting a handshake from him with a rather impressive grip- for a lady.

"I'm Celes." Her voice was a little darker than he'd imagined it would be- she appeared as gentle as a dove but sounded as strong as any soldier or mercenary he'd encountered during his days with the Returners.

"Celes." He repeated back to her.

"Yes," She eyed him strangely before slowly replying, "Is something wrong?"

Locke shook his head, releasing her hand as he realized he'd still been squeezing it. "No. It's just that I've just never met anyone with that name before."

* * *

She appeared again like a mirage in the lake of fire- a humanoid silvery white light that touched him where he bled out onto the ground of the cavern, her cool fingertips regenerating the flesh wound as the others danced with the beasts around them.

"Oh, _Locke_. Are you alright?"

Even in his delirious stupor, he'd recognize those eyes and that voice anywhere. He'd surely been hallucinating.

"Am I dead?" He questioned the woman dumbly.

That eyeroll.

"Not quite. Can you stand?"

* * *

"You came here for the magicite I take it?" Celes asked, and as her eyes flickered to his they called him back to her attention.

"The legendary treasure that can undo death itself." Locke replied, watching her smile faint and nod with approval.

"Legend has it that the Phoenix turned itself to stone ages ago," Celes' chin jerked towards the dimly glinting stone by their bedding. "It seems the story was true."

Her fingertips settled over the surface of his puckered skin, easing it into the crude dressings she wrapped around him in the dim light of the camp, a cavern with only two narrow entrances that would prove difficult for any large foe to slip through.

"It's filled with cracks," Locke admitted, "I don't know if it still has the strength to perform miracles." He suppressed a wince at the temporary sharp tension against his torso and she tore the cloth with her teeth.

"It's for Rachel isn't it?" She asked him after wrinkling her nose and pulling several threads from her tongue.

He knew he shouldn't have felt the slight of shame that he did at the question, but it stung him anyway. He sighed in hesitation.

"Yeah."

Edgar and Sabin were involved in some jovial discussion over by the wall of cavern, and their laughter echoed in the chamber, drowning out any subtle dreariness.

"I've been looking for this place for the past year. If I'd known you had all made it out..."

Celes shook her head. "I didn't know either. I thought I was the only one left."

Something in her voice made him study her carefully. She was good at hiding things from most, but he knew from the sudden inflection in her voice and feigned concentration on a simple bandage job that she had a story to tell.

"How did you find out that you weren't?" He grunted as he raised his hands above his shoulders and accepted her assistance in pulling his shirt over his head.

"It's a long story."

"I like stories." He flashed a smile at her.

She looked to him and then to the ground, preoccupying herself with cleaning up the mess that had been made with the bandages and salves.

He frowned. She was selectively withholding from him, but then again, he was doing the same with her.

"I don't want to tell you right now." She said finally as she rose, speaking to him as she turned to him over her shoulder, "Long ago you gave me a choice to fight alongside you or to continue on my own. I chose to come with you."

Locke swallowed hard. She was right. She was still, waiting for his verbal confirmation.

"I'm not sure what I want to do yet," He shrugged and looked down to his bare feet. "But if you all would join me as far as Kohlingen, I think I'll be able to tell you then."

His life had been a muddle of purposeful deceptions and silly lies. He could smile and conduct sabotage simultaneously, he could enter a room and decipher the intent of a person he'd never met, but he couldn't figure out what the tone in Celes' voice meant in her recent comments.

"If you fight with us, I'll tell you everything." Celes told him. His summation of her steady gaze told him that she was sincere.

* * *

Rachel's eyes fluttered open again for the first time since her passing. She wasn't a mere reanimated body, _it was her._ Dark eyes sunken from dehydration and death brightened when they focused on him and registered his identity.

" _Locke."_

Her voice was as potent and pure as he'd remembered. He gripped her hand tightly in his own, with him leaning over her so closely from his chair that his forehead hovered a mere inches from hers. How many nights had they laid like this? Forehead to forehead, her eyes welcomed his with such warmth.

"Rachel." He grinned. He'd finally done it- after years of searching for the sure to her ailment, and now she'd returned to him with success.

"Locke..." She smiled again- the faintest of smiles, returning the squeeze of his hand with her own, "I've dreamed of seeing you. I just wanted to hear your voice."

A single tear rolled down his cheek wordlessly. _I've dreamed of you. I wanted to hear yours._ He could only murmur her name against the back of her hand.

"Rachel..." His happy guise faltered completely. He felt his expression switch from the self assured grin to the sorrowful from as he began to realize where the conversation was going with her next words.

"The phoenix has given me so little time. I have to leave again soon."

Locke shook his head, denying her the right to declare such things.

"-But I have something I must tell you."

Locke leaned forward and kissed her forehead lightly, urging her to continue. It was eerie, how a seemingly distant youthful memory had come alive again, and though he'd aged for years beyond, she stared back at him with the same familiar adolescent stare that he remembered.

"I was so happy with you, Locke." She breathed his name like a whisper and drew a sharp breath from his chest, "In my last moments my memory returned, and I drifted off thinking only of you."

He remembered the desperate cry of his voice as he screamed her name around the wreckage of the bridge. The clouds of dust that had accumulated that made him cough and choke, and still he stumbled and tripped over the wreckage to find her.

"...And I was truly, _truly_ happy. So let me now say the words I never had the chance to say."

Her name emerged from his lips again in both a sob and a gasp. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; the phoenix was supposed to resurrect her entirely, but the old man's comments about the cracks in the magicite seem to hold some credence. A faint part of him felt relief; relief that she wasn't in fact angry with him for his actions back then, for failing to save her, or for his relations with other women or for the fact that he felt guilt over the desire to forget her name just as much as he had the desire to speak it to her face once more.

"I have to go now, but thank you so much for all the happiness you've given me." Her voice was the same girlish and sweet voice he'd remembered. She reached up and brushed his tear away with her thumb and her fingers trailed down his cheek to his draw, the way he remembered her doing all those years ago.

"I'll always love you. But _please_ let go of the chains that bind you."

Somewhere in the distance he recalled lifting her up by her legs onto his shoulders one autumn day to reach the highest apples from a tree. She swayed and nearly fell backwards onto the unsavory floor of rotting fruit that lined the ground, but he moved so quickly that she regained her balance at the expense of his vision as her delicate hands covered his eyes.

"I release you."

He'd carried the basket of apples back to her house that day, the crisp air of the late year keeping him alert as she slid her fingers around his for the first time.

"Give your love to the one who now dwells within your heart. Love her as you loved me."

He squeezed her hand agian. It was just Rachel's style to bid him farewell by pleading with him to love someone else. He rested his head in her hand, letting her support it's weight.

"Phoenix," Her voice was a gasp as she commanded the magicite, "Be reborn! And give your power to Locke!"

She closed her eyes again.

She wasn't coming back. She breathed a small breath that was expelled abruptly from her lungs more from a need to vacate a dying body than out of a conscious intent to breathe. Her eyes opened again, half lidded and irises still and fixed.

She was finally gone. Locke bowed his head again, halfheartedly tempted to kiss her on her forehead again but he refrained. The old man left him alone, and he sat there with her in the stillness, contemplating her last wishes. He thought of apple trees in the fall and golden sunsets. Sweet maple sugar from the dessert she'd prepared for him.

Then, she was gone.

* * *

It was a crisp autumn day when he stepped outside the house, and the sun set earlier than anticipated on the hill before him. Celes sat against the gate of the house, her arms and legs crossed. She appeared uncharacteristically lazy, as though she'd been waiting there for a while and had given up on maintaining her normal postured appearances.

"Locke..."

"I'm alright," He assured her, feeling slightly embarrassed that she'd waited all this time. "From here on out everything'll be okay."

Her clear blue eyes squinted at him in her trademark skepticism, and softened a little when she read the seriousness of his expression.

"I'm coming with you." He assured her, "The whole way. I'm all in."

* * *

They made it as far as the tavern, a place where what seemed like lifetimes before he'd slipped out into the woods at night. Sabin was pushy with the drinks, encouraging everyone to guzzle another as soon as their glasses were half full. The other patrons sifted in and out, eyeing the increasingly rowdy party of newly reunited friendships with raised brows.

Terra had attempted to calm things- an effort that was abruptly halted when she drunkenly knocked her own drink over in an effort to slow the rate at which Edgar guzzled his beverage. She lowered her forehead to the surface of the table in humble defeat as the men around her roared in laughter.

Setzer had noticed her intent of absence only seconds after Locke had, bringing his dark grey eyes to the door where she would depart, though as he watched Locke cross the room he resolved to challenge Sabin's tolerance to alcohol instead.

Celes was acting different. Last he'd seen of her was in her stiffed-necked Imperial militant position and though she maintained the same posture now, she was also brighter, happier. The flush of red in her cheeks and her collarbone emitted from the alcohol and the slight curve in the outer edges of her narrow eyes when she laughed comforted him.

Rachel had effectively set him free that day, and in a way he felt as if he were present for a wake of some sort. The woman he loved had been lost long ago, but he never really felt the absence of her presence until now.

 _'I release you.'_

In the midst of the rowdiness of the bar Locke watched as Celes opened the door and slipped out into the cool night. He followed quickly behind her, not caring for the sake of subtlety or snide remarks from his friends.

Celes stood with her mug in one hand, and white coat wrapped in the fist of the other. It was a full autumn moon, and by the upward direction of her chin as she leaned against the foundation of the tavern he could tell she was taking note of it. He realized that her hair was even longer than he remembered, gathered in a tired braid over one shoulder.

"I thought they knew how to party back in Vector." He spoke snarkily, satisfied at the raised eyebrows his way. For a moment, she looked like a model for a painting and now, she looked like any other beautiful woman who sized him up, judgmental and angry.

"They do." She replied sharply.

His hands dove into his pockets for warmth, but he tried to not make that too obvious. "Did you often dip out on your own then?"

Celes smiled dryly. She turned her head to him as he settled against the wall beside her. "Politics can get complicated over there."

Locke shuddered, remembering the chain of events that led to their departure from one another. "You're telling me. When we were on that boat, I wasn't really sure who I should be." He wasn't _completely_ drunk, but he was buzzed enough to give him more courage in his words.

"Imagine living that your whole life." Her words were dark and she sipped her drink again.

He couldn't even begin to- and he had so many questions that he wanted to ask but in s midst of everything he wasn't sure if he'd ever had to appropriate opportunity to ask them.

So instead he stood beside her in silence for a while, listening to the faint merrymaking that was being made from behind the walls at his back.

"Why did you come out here?" Celes asked him at last. Their heads rested a mere inches away from one another.

"I wanted to talk to you." He replied earnestly, before bluntly adding, "I feel like there's so much that I want to tell you, and to ask you, but I'm not sure we'll ever find the time before we find Kefka. And if _he_ doesn't kill us, we'll likely die from the aftermath. So I'll never know."

"You mean you're not sure if you should ask." Her response was timely and profound, and summed up exactly what he'd been rambling to her her and himself in his own thoughts that day.

"Yeah. Pretty much." He nudged her elbow with his. "So I guess I followed you out here but I wanted to at least be with you."

Celes set the mug down on a lone tree stump in front of them, appearing unaffected by the hastiness of his words. She crossed her arms and turned to him. Her eyes looked decades older though the rest of her complexion remained youthful, like an ethereal goddess.

"I missed you." She said quietly.

The confession was all that he needed to hear. He cupped her chin with his thumb, and lightly spread his fingers across the surface of her cheek.

It was something new, with the only guilt hanging in the crisp and quiet air being the guilt of not enough time, not enough truth or sentiment in the words that he could give her.

And when Celes leaned into his hand to offer a kiss he replied instantly with equal pressure, savoring the moisture and softness of her lips again and again.

He wanted to go back to Narshe. Or the opera house. He wanted to rewrite those moments so that he wasn't haunted by another, and instead only be with Celes.

He knew of an outside entrance to the hall of rooms in the inn, and led her there quietly so as to avoid the prying eyes and drunken jeers of their well meaning friends.

This was a different tone than their encounter at the opera house, there was no leisure or drunken stupor. There was the lock of a door and the brisk removal of clothing with precise intent. There were bandages across his body and the sharp aches as fresh new wounds protested. She had various scars on her own, which he'd previously lamented that he didn't have the luxury of time to ask her about, so he ran his lips over them instead.

He savored every gasp and muted curse that escaped her mouth, and he ran his thumb over the full softness of her bottom lip as he gently pushed himself inside of her.

Her breaths were sharp and the ribs that lined her body contracted with every motion as she purposefully grabbed him piece by piece, manipulating him into being precisely the kind of lover that she needed in that moment. He was happy to comply, pulling her face to his with his fingers threaded in her hair and his forehead to hers when he wasn't worshipping her body against his lips. She sought after his kisses as often as she could, amidst the constant tangle of the sheets and the constant fight of the strain of his body in it's feeble state as he sought to please hers.

When all was said and done, he chose her. Just her. He was ready to follow her anywhere, even if it meant his death.

* * *

A/N: Whew! That was long, but if you couldn't tell I had a lot of bases I wanted to cover with this chapter, so as I result I wrote what I think is my longest chapter in any story ever to date (which isn't saying much because I thrive on oneshots.) Writing this fic has given me an appreciation for the complexities of a relationship that was written in a time when these things simply didn't exist in video games. Being an adult with complexities of my own, I can relate to a degree.

We're nearing the end and the first part here is a nod as to how that will go down. I've had this specific ending scene in mind since I started writing this and am excited for it all to play out!

Ironically enough, I have a busy week coming up with work and then vacation to go to my own friend's wedding to reunite with some peeps I love and haven't seen in a while! But after that is all done with I will update again! Thanks for all the hits/favorites/follows/reviews! It's always reassuring to know that someone out there besides me is enjoying this thing!


	20. Dragon on the Stage

**Dragon on the Stage**

* * *

"Are you a friend of the groom or the bride?"

Celes raised an eyebrow at him. "The groom."

" _Hey_! Me too. We used to work together."

She opened her mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by an announcement for the speeches. That 'Locke' excused himself and rose from his seat beside her as effortlessly as he came.

"Ah, that's my call."

"He asked you to give a speech?"

"It was nice meeting you."He murmured by her ear as he rose and she shivered.

She smiled weakly in return. "Good luck."

* * *

The dim lights of dawn gently seeped through her eyelids, waking her from her slumber. The world of ruin was particularly eerie this time of day, when the sun seemed to appear reluctant as it simmered over the horizon.

She lifted her head and and squinted at Terra's sleeping form across the room. The poor girl appeared to have fallen asleep in her clothes, complete with boots and all. She then suddenly became aware of the bare skin that shifted underneath her, and her neck that was stiff from the odd angle in which she'd dosed on the responsible party's arm.

* * *

" _I should probably go."_ Locke attempted to leave the bed earlier in the night, straddling her briefly with his knees.

He was referring to the sake of being discreet; their companions were all still currently drinking downstairs and they'd surely be headed to bed within the hour.

She'd reached and gripped his wrist as he shifted over her and he froze, his eyes meeting her inquisitively.

" _Stay."_ She commanded softly. He opened his mouth for what she was sure was going to be a protest, but instead he grinned and cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger before leaning downward to inhale and kiss her fully.

* * *

But with subtle light flooding the room Celes felt vulnerable, and there was a likely chance that Terra had stumbled into the room's darkness unaware of the sleeping arrangement, and if she woke to find her company is such a state she would be mortified.

Celes gently nudged Locke awake. It was almost cruel, as he slept with his arms stretched out and his complexion was completely at peace. The arm she rested up had gentl gathered a fistful of her hair in the night and when she retrieved him from his reverie he tugged on it slightly.

She winced and when he opened his eyes abruptly with a look of confusion she quickly moved a finger to his lips and motioned to the sleeping girl in the room with them. She watched his eyes move from shock to horror as he brought a hand to his face.

"I don't think she saw anything. She wouldn't have stayed." Celes whispered.

Locke's brown eyes peeked through his fingers. She could read him pretty well by now, and knew he was calculating his escape.

And she was right. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders to suppress a laugh as Locke weightlessly hopped to the edge of the bed in one fluid movement and pulled his clothing up and over himself, watching Terra for any signs of awakening.

"I meet you on the roof." Locke said quietly, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed his vest and walked to the door.

"The _roof?_ " Celes asked incredulously, but he was already in the process of slipping outside the room as silently as he had risen and dressed.

"I feel like you've done this before." She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, speaking to no one.

She turned and looked one more time at Terra, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout the entire ordeal.

* * *

Once dressed, Celes found the way to the rooftop by the route that they'd taken to her room the night before. The morning dew made the old shingles slick, and Celes wasn't sure whether to curse or be in awe of Locke as he was already in position with a mug of coffee.

She was grateful that she'd worn her wool overcoat, not only because of the chilliness of the morning but because of the slipperiness of the shingles, and as she slid herself to him on all fours the sleeves gave her and extra source of friction.

Locke didn't appear cold, but when she got close enough she could see goosebumps poke through the surface of the skin on his arms.

He silently offered her his mug when she was within arm's reach and she accepted it, closing her eyes to take a sip and inhale the nutty aroma. But when she opened her eyes she saw that his were on her, and she felt her cheeks turn red.

"Do I have something on my face?" She asked smartly, handing him the mug back.

He shook his head, eyes sincere. "No."

She pushed her hair behind her ear, mentally reminding herself to soften her demeanor.

"When I woke up, after, you know, I was in this village. This woman had found me and was taking care of me." Locke spoke suddenly. Celes only listened, squinting in the direction of the row of apple trees in the courtyard.

"Her dad was a doc so she knew a lot about that stuff- I was really lucky. I didn't even realize, because I was so out of it that she had me sleeping in her bed while she slept on her own couch. She was that kind of person."

The 'was' in his sentence was her first indicator that this story didn't end well, and she turned to him, steadying herself by her boots on the shingles. Locke looked straight ahead in the direction of the apple trees.

"The local cultists were crazy. She'd warned me once about them, but I guess I didn't realize _how_ crazy. I guess I've seen a lot of that sort of thing. They captured her and tortured her and left her to die in the town square."

He looked at her now, eyes full of emotion as he sipped his coffee again.

"I'm sorry I told you that." Locke furrowed his brow and shook his head.

She reached out to place her hand on his. It was a big effort, a meaningful physical gesture coming from her. "It's alright."

"Yeah but that's not very good sensual 'morning-after' talk is it."

Celes smiled and crossed her arms around her waist. She leaned with her knees pointed toward him now, with the sun now fully visible behind them she could see the shadows a cast by eyelashes and cheekbones.

He was right, but the world they lived in allowed for little sweet speech.

"I wouldn't know." She shrugged, "I've never had anything of the sort."

Locke's eyes were wide as he looked at her in shock, though she couldn't decipher how much of it was out of mockery. " _Never?_ Did men of the Empire have no idea about the gratification of the morning after?"

Celes snorted. Her first time was in a barracks cleaning closet during guard duty. She didn't know what to expect, but she was all fury and hostility amidst the pain. Sex was a means to feel in control, in her experience. Perhaps that was what attracted her so much to Locke: before sex there was her attraction to his fluidity, his willingness to move _with_ her rather than dominate or submit to her.

" _I_ didn't know." Celes admitted, "Does it always consist of sneaking from your bedroom like a criminal and meeting up on the roof?"

"No," Locke shook his head. "I... ah, thought we could watch the sunrise but it's already up, so."

Celes took his mug back from him and grinned. "Good thing our comrades will want to sleep in."

"Yeah." Locke scratched his head with uncertainty, before turning back to her. "So, I told you _my_ story. What about you?"

Perhaps it was the rush from the beverage, but she could feel her skin perspire excessively under the direct rays of the sun and her heart raced in her chest. He wanted to know about how she came to find him again. And she wanted to tell him badly, but she choked at the thought.

Where to begin? How much _could_ she tell him?

"Cid found me. On an island." She responded, her throat tightening at the thought.

Locke was perceptive enough that she knew he'd been observing her queues of discomfort.

"Cid's alive?"

"He was but he passed away shortly before I left."

His brows rose. "Oh."

"We should go and see if the others are awake." She told him abruptly, turning from him to carefully scoot off the roof the the stairwell.

Mimicking her action earlier that morning, he gripped her wrist and pulled her back firmly.

"No." He said, his eyes serious with a new passion that she'd never quite seen in him before- and wasn't quite sure how to take it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please tell me the rest, Celes."

"I told you before that _I don't want to._ " She didn't know where the sudden rush of anger came from, but when she recalled how defensive she felt about the events that followed Cid's death she was sure she wasn't ready for Locke to tell her quite yet.

"You can tell me things-"

She felt her face contort in anger as she ripped her hand from him and cut him off. _"There's nothing left to tell."_ She hissed, and he attempted to pull her back again, his usually carefree complexion hardened with frustration.

"Tell me."

"I can't." _'I won't.'_

She sought to pull her hand from his grip again but he tightened, which infuriated her further. She didn't take kindly to being told what to do from anyone, but _him?_

He only pulled her closer. "Celes, hey..."

"You've been pining after a _dead_ girl since I met you and you decide yesterday that you can be with me and acknowledge that I _exist_ the next day? And now that _you've_ decided that I should, I have to tell you _everything?"_

She recalled the feeling of helplessness as she paced in front of Cid's corpse in her night gown, and the defeated state of her mind when she jumped from the cliff.

Locke's eyes widened is shock at the brutal honesty of her words.

"Is that what you think?" He spoke lowly, sounding almost menacing with how level his tone was.

"It's not just what I _think._ " She spat, " _Look at you."_ And with that she whipped his knuckles sharply against the surface of the roof, causing a sharp _crack_ from his joints and the release of her wrist. She pulled away from him, unable to look at him as she did so, instantly questioning as she hastily climbed down the ladder if she'd overreacted solely for the purpose of driving a wedge between them both as in a few days time, they'd certainly both be driven to their deaths.

* * *

The night before they closed in on Kefka's tower, Celes stared Setzer down from across his own poker table.

"I think you should go to bed." The gambler returned her hardened gaze.

"One more game."

"I think not."

"I think so. _"_

Setzer smirked at her. "I usually like feisty women." He rose to pour himself a drink and she cast him a glowering look. They had all agreed not to drink that night.

"And now?" Celes rested her chin in her hand as she watched Setzer pour a glass of tonic instead. She wouldn't doubt if he had his own additive mixed in with the tonic so as to give the appearance that he wasn't drinking at all.

"Now, well you just seem pathetic. But allow me to back up a moment."

Celes blinked at him, unsure of whether she had enough anger to cast his way.

"When I met you, you played me for a fool. You were Maria, and you were unapologetic, you were _alive._ "

She cocked her head. "Am I not alive now?"

Setzer smirked at her, his scars pronounced in the artificial lighting of the cabin where they sat by themselves.

"No and yes. To me, you'll always be my Maria, longing to be with your prince from afar."

Celes rolled her eyes. "Perhaps that was a part I played all too well, if you're disappointed in me now."

"I never said I was disappointed. You're as tough as you are soft, milady." Setzer sipped the tonic.

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean that something in you has changed since then, and I can't quite say what."

Celes leaned towards him "Then what would you do, if you were me?"

"I'd only like to see you play as Maria once again."

Celes sighed; he was avoiding the question. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"If I die tomorrow, I'll be relieved to not have to hear another one of your cryptic riddles again." She told him sharply.

He smiled at her grimly. "All I'm saying is that at times you must be the woman of the lonely island as well as the woman of Vector, if you ever wish to love and be loved."

"How do you know about the island?"

"I don't," Setzer stood over her, his eyes baring into hers. "But your defensiveness and mannerisms told me enough. It's just a pity that if you _do_ die tomorrow that the truth will die with you."

"You'd let me die?" She asked him teasingly as he lingered in the doorway, a dying fire from the hearth behind him darkening his towering silhouette.

"I'll be at your side, my dear." He winked at her, and walked on to his chambers, leaving her alone by the dying light.

* * *

That night, she laid awake with the quick thoughts in her head keeping her awake. She was in the same chamber where she'd fumbled with her corset and Locke had been hesitant to touch her. How long ago was that? Was she only angry with him because of that? Was she angry with him at all?

He slept only a few doors down the hall, perhaps for the last time. At one point in the night she padded to his door and knocked softly, only to change her mind and walk back to her own door, hearing his open and seeing him at the corner of her eyes, dressed minimally leaning into the frame and staring at her as she pretended not to notice as she entered her own chambers.

That night when she finally fell asleep, she dreamt of the Opera House. She ran through the halls to speak to the Impresario who frantically waved her on:

" _There's a dragon on the stage!"_

Locke stood with his back to her, the bandana scraps she'd snatched from the wounded bird tied about his head and she followed him, only the sudden tightening in her chest and her waist caused her to lose her breath quickly only to look down a the familiar opera gown.

She kicked off the shoes and ran the keep up with him, but as in reality his pace was considerably quicker than hers in her dress, and before she knew it she was climbing the beams on all fours above the stage, where a dragon stood rather tamely before a waiting audience...

* * *

In the morning, they stood on the deck as the tower grew nearer.

"What's wrong?" Setzer turned to her and she leaned over the railing, taking in the sight of the ominous structure below.

"The statues give the Espers the magical energy they need to live. If we destroy the statues..."

She could live without the strength that magic had given her, but she motioned to Terra, who sat on the stairs to the deck below calmly, arms crossed defensively over her stomach.

"What'll happen?" Edgar walked to her from his perch on the higher deck.

"I'm not sure," Celes replied earnestly, "But the Espers and magic, too will most likely disappear from this world."

They looked to Terra and Celes felt a pang of guilt- guilt for her role in leading the Empire to such a state where Kefka had obtained such power, and for reuniting with her friends to lead them into yet another bout of violence, where a young girl's existence was on the line.

But when the ship came close enough to a promising surface, she jumped for the intent of living.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay! What would be a good relationship without a little bit of conflict before the end of the world? I promise the ending will be satisfying for all the people who just want to see Locke and Celes act normal with each other for once! I have yet another cross country move coming up at the end of the week for work so I may or may not get the next chapter up before then. Thank you for all the feedback thus far!


	21. The Invitation

**The Invitation**

* * *

The room erupted with laughter as Locke himself stood before the tables of merry guests on his own, facing the bride and groom with only a slightly apologetic look for the story he'd just told. Cyan had a number of drunken nights' worth of stories to share for his embarrassment, perhaps only bested in that category by Sabin.

He saw her across the floor of the tent, eyes fixed on him intently just like any other in the audience, except hers were distinct in their intensity. Perhaps he'd know her better in another life, where life itself wasn't so fragile and flippant. Later in the night he could approach her again, or he could drop it altogether and write her off on a list of could've-beens.

Paper lanterns hung from the ceilings casting a flame flickering glow on the faces of the crowd. He could stay in this moment for a while longer, the single man who held her captive as he caused a small twitch at the corner of her lips. But he toasted to the bride and groom instead.

* * *

Kefka's form shattered around them in a glimmering trickle of light, like a thousand shattered golden mirrors.

Locke had been considerably slower than before due to his previous injuries from the phoenix cave and somewhere from his peripheral Terra crawled to him on all fours, leaning her slick forehead to his to heal him and he pushed her gruffly back, signaling for her to retrieve Shadow's slumped figure over a pile of gravel.

" _Life..."_ Kefka hissed, with an awkward gait unfitting for a god as he turned his body towards the woman at the far edge of the tower.

Celes.

While the others were preoccupied, Locke scrambled towards her, knife in the hand that clutched his chest. A trickle of warm blood fell over his eye, stinging it, and he squeezed it shut momentarily with a grunt as he ran.

" _Dreams..."_ The disembodied voice boomed and Locke willed his legs to move faster.

" _Hope..."_ Kefka towered directly over Celes now, and she knelt on one knee, looking up at him with an unsettlingly serene expression.

 _Dammit,_ she was in the best shape out of everyone, and yet she didn't move.

She was looking at the creature as if she looked at an old friend.

" _Where'd they come from? And where are they headed?"_ Kefka cocked his head to the side. A pillar behind him cracked in half, as if obeying some unspoken order to self destruct. His silvery hair fell matted around him from his forehead to his shoulders, as if bearing the weight of an invisible crown that had since been cast off.

Locke heard footsteps from another behind him, but he didn't bother to turn and see who it was. The only other person who could reach Kefka at this point was Terra, who was spent from merely keeping everyone alive.

" _These things I'll destroy!"_ Kefka boomed, and Celes rose swiftly to meet him as Locke finally gained on them and thrust himself onto Kefka, penetrating him some with his blade but forced back with the momentum of Celes' spell. She turned to him apologetically, wasting no time to toss a potion his way.

Kefka was getting remarkably slow, uncoordinated, and sporadic. It was Locke's experience that this was when foes became most unpredictable- they were either backed into a corner and lashed out in some furious way that could cost one his life if not prepared, or they simply faded into exhaustion.

Celes stopped Sabin's blow, parrying some desperate attempt as Kefka summoned an attack against her. The granite where she'd stood melted to soft gravel instead, causing an uptake of dust in the air.

She said something inaudible, and the god sank to his knees, an expression of both awe and disgust splayed across his face. He replied to her in sentences, reaching upwards to perhaps brush a hand to her cheek, or to break her neck, but no one would ever know because she drove her sword into him for what would be the last time.

The magicite around them glittered and shattered and Kefka bled out onto the stone floor of the tower.

Human blood.

* * *

The tower was a series of tunneled staircases and halls. The torches on the walls flickered and faded, and the group ran with Terra in the lead, looking over her shoulder when she turned a sharp corner or jumped a particularly nasty divide. Edgar took the rear and pulled any occasional straggler that collapsed from exhaustion, though as the structure shook and gave way their bodies were tossed here and there, and the adrenaline rush of certain death kept up their pace.

A chamber where the floors were barely tethered to the beams that once held them caused them to slow, each taking their time to maneuver across. Locke moved ahead of Terra here, testing the integrity of the place with the careful rocking from the balls of his feet as he went for the others who followed.

Celes was nimble enough, but her fatigue had weighed her down and she was exhausted. She ran lightly over the preset course, stumbling over a gaping ledge and falling forward, causing something to drop from her waist.

The others moved past her, attempting to pull her along as they went, but she pushed them off, crawling on all fours to retrieve what she'd dropped behind her. Locke felt his heart hammer in his chest as he called for her and went ignored. He dove and gripped her by the ankle of her boot and she only kicked him.

"Get _back!_ " She hissed. He fought her defiance with his own. He was willing to honor her request for noninvasive conversations but he'd be _damned_ if Celes became a part of the carnage of the tower.

Whatever the thing was, she was hell-bent on retrieving it. As he spotted something fluttering on the edge of the floor where she was headed, his urgency overrode any sort of rational thought and he reached and grabbed her by the belt, roughly knocking her off balance and sliding her toward him. Somewhere behind them Terra screamed for them to stop and the beams under the floor shook and groaned under their weight.

Celes rolled onto her back and sent a powerful kick to his stomach, loosening his grip briefly, but he only winced and tightened his fistful of her garment further. He cried out through his teeth in pain as her boot came all too close to crushing a particularly _sensitive_ target in his groin. Nevertheless, he used the strength he could muster to pull her back to him as she delivered blow after blow.

Finally he loosed his grip enough so that she could roll back onto her side and dive for the edge again, claiming something small in her gloved hand while sending the the floor teetering over the edge with her momentum.

" _CELES!"_ Locke bellowed and slid further down the floor to where she hung from the newly shortened ledge, clutching the uneven ground with both hands, one of them wrapped in an unbelievably familiar pattern.

She looked back at him, clear blue eyes wide in the dim flickering light in utter terror.

Locke hooked a foot on a ledge on the uneven ground behind him he reached with both hands and grasp hers, attempting to stabilize the body the kicked wildly and swung like a rag doll in the wind.

" _Locke._ " She sputtered, her body trembling in fear.

Locke's forehead was only inches from hers. "I will not let go. I promise."

He leveraged his foot as an anchor and maintained an arm over her shoulder. He pulled her upward. They were both slick with sweat and she slid backward some, causing her to panic and grab at him harder, her grip so tight that he winced. Her breath blew harshly in his ear and she breathed.

He pulled steadily, tucking her into him until he finally was able to reach her belt again and pull her from the reaches of the depths below. Wrapping an arm over her shoulders, he crawled with her to a more stable part of the floor, and the trail they'd just used to crawl over fell away into the darkness.

Locke pulled the tattered remains of his bandana from her shaking hand and held it up to her inquisitively.

"I..." She stammered and looked down at the floor.

He was _furious_ with her. After all this time she'd shut him out time and time again, all for her own damn pride. But to top it off she went after something so arbitrary and small, putting her own life on the life to do so and nearly ending his when he attempted to stop her from being foolish _when he was right in front of her._

"You almost _ate it_ trying to pick up this silly trinket." He snarled.

She snatched it back from him. Despite his anger, he maintained his arm around her shoulders to pull her to him if they needed another quick escape.

"I-I know."

"I don't know why you would throw your life away like that, Celes. And I know I probably _never will_."

He realized that his emphasis on the last two words was an almost cruel stab at her reservations. He jerked his head in the direction of their companions who were watching them in horror, motioning that it was time to move again.

* * *

The airship reeled and bucked from the unwelcome turbulence of the maneuvers it wasn't designed to perform. On deck, Edgar yelled something obscene, undoubtedly out of the rush of relief that washed over him when the result of their ordeal sank in:

Kefka was dead. Terra was still with them. And magic would fade from the world.

Locke looked to Celes as she joined him, leaning shakingly on the railing of the deck.

They could all use a drink, a doctor, and a hot bath, but they all gathered on the deck in a pathetic bloodied mess as the grey lights of dawn graced the world yet again.

"The bandana." Celes croaked. Half of her long braid had fallen out, causing bloodied clumps of hair to whip around her face in the breeze. The rising sun cast strange shadows over her features, making her appear much older than she really was.

"-I wanted to tell you about it." She said earnestly, her blue eyes almost appearing childlike for the first time.

Locke shook his head and leaned back over the rail, looking to the patchwork ground below. "You shouldn't have to. If it's that important to you, why should I need to know?"

Celes gripped the bar of the deck in one hand, swinging her body to and from it absentmindedly.

"I'll never get to crack your code, Chere. And that's alright."

Edgar and Sabin were being particularly loud behind them, and Celes turned to look at them at he resumed his gaze on her. Up ahead, Terra stood by the bow of the ship and pulled her long hair from it's pony tail, looking to the brightening horizon and she ran her fingers over her scalp. Celes then changed her direction to the girl instead.

"I never intended to be anything to 'crack'." She murmured in a volume so low that he knew it wasn't his to hear.

No doubt, his friends were all incredibly flawed, Celes included. But the thing he realized about friendship was it's tendency to mask certain flaws. When he saw someone as a friend, he more or less saw them as he wanted to; Sabin was a hard drunk but a loyal man. Edgar loved the people around him to a fault. Terra was kind and gentle, but still incredibly naive and gullible. Friends saw only the best in each other.

When he saw someone as a stranger, he saw them exactly as they were. Celes was quiet, she was strong. She commanded respect and when she didn't get it immediately, she became untethered. She didn't eat food that had touched other foods on the same plate. Her face became flushed when she drank wine. When he kissed her she was vulnerable and audibly receptive to _every single_ touch. When he was close enough he could see the subtle freckles on her nose that momentarily made her appear younger than she actually was. When they lay together she was an open book. But at all other times, she was incredibly guarded.

She was beautiful, and even if he'd spotted her for the first time on the street he'd want to find a way to break open her skull and peer into her inner monologue, but to his disdain, it didn't work that way.

His father in his late old words said it best:

 _'A woman you have to break was never yours to begin with.'_

* * *

When the ship finally docked somewhere outside of Maranda, Locke packed his things in a single bag and slipped off, squeezing the shoulders of the remaining inhabitants as he passed. Celes was still asleep in her cabin below.

It wasn't even a week later that he discovered one of his wounds had become infected. He lay in a bed for days, sweating like a madman in a fever dream and seeing _her_ under the chandelier of her dressing room in the opera house.

He wondered about how she obtained the scrap of the bandana that he'd left behind in a village she'd never been to. He wondered about her exchange with Kefka. He wondered if she in fact did love him the way he was sure that she did when she looked at him sometimes. And if that were the case, he wanted to ask her the about the _exact_ moment that it happened.

He knew his moment- under the stars of Bristle Hole when he encountered her on the lake.

Or maybe before then.

The fever broke and he took up odd jobs to repay the debt, compartmentalizing the image of the woman as a stranger.

He was involved in reconstruction efforts, he drank too much ale too many times. He crossed the world the South Figaro and checked in with his friends. He met other women with flushed cheeks and warm beds and saw countless birds fly overhead. He sought after treasure in the deepest depths, resurfaced by the sudden shift of land and sea. He scoped out the desert where Bristol Hole should've been, but with empty hands he resorted to the realization that it hadn't survived the mass destruction. He headed to Narshe and purchased more opium.

Sunrises were brighter again.

A year after all that began, a wedding invitation arrived.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I moved this week and have a few more days before I leave town for a week. Welp, that's it with the main story, by not for Locke/Celes! The last chapter will be the full blown wedding chapter I've teased, and then a possible epilogue after that depending on how that chapter leaves me. I'm really excited to write it because it's basically what I wrote this whole thing for.

Writing Locke/Celes has been so satisfying because I find they're a common and relatable trope in many real life adult couples: the fun-loving free spirit and the serious and guarded passionate one. FFVI is so good for the dynamic of it's characters for the time it was produced and it has been so satisfying to expand on those- I may explore single oneshots of others after this, who knows. I do have some spin offs or "deleted" content from this from where the wine got the best of me! I may edit and post those separately.


	22. The Night We Met

**The Night We Met**

* * *

She'd settled in a flat under the pub in Jidoor where no one knew her name. She was known only as the tomboyish maid from some where far away; she'd acquired an accent from everywhere it seemed, and only well traveled individuals could identify her origin accurately.

A shop owner took interest in her, as she'd make her living with the trophies of various regional hunts, yet she always took more interest in the wares that others offered. She'd roam his shop in the evenings, when the streets were full of whispering couples, haughty old men that strut to the taverns, and the occasional wild dog that scavenged the day's remaining spoils. She dressed plainly in animal skins, her hair usually tied back in a braid.

Her demeanor was unchanged from evening to evening: dusky blue eyes skimming shelves of ivory and painted pottery, never reaching to touch the way most customers did. Her eyes were ever full of observations and commentary that never escaped her lips, and the storekeeper took delight in the fact that he had a regular who merely _enjoyed_ his wares as much as she did rather than feeling burdened with her presence yielding the lack of a sale the way other shop owners might.

He'd offered assistance in helping her find anything so many times before that ended in her declination that he didn't bother anymore.

On this particular evening he merely dipped behind the curtain into the storeroom of the shop after confirming she was the only person present in the store, wiping the sweat from his white brow as he maneuvered to pull a crate from the top of the stack in failure- it wasn't that he was physically incapable of moving it, but rather that he was in danger of throwing his back out without help. ' _No matter,'_ he decided, he'd best wait until the morning when his stock boy returned to work.

The shop keeper lifted the curtain to the main store and gasped in surprise at the unexpected sight of the blonde young woman standing before him at the counter. She waited patiently, running a finger along the contents of the wooden tray she'd set upon the counter.

He recovered from the surprise and smiled amicably, "Is that it for you?"

She nodded, and spoke back to him for the first time. "Yes. How much?" Her voice was rich with confidence, but not with the entitlement that the others in this town often had.

He approached the counter and pulled his glasses to his nose, curiously eyeing her desired purchase: intricate individual wolf pack carvings, painted in dark lacquer. He didn't know how many months he'd had them on display now, even at the discounted price he hadn't been able to move them off the shelf until now.

"5,000 GP."

She fumbled with the wallet in her pocket and passed him the coins without fuss. "Do you think you can wrap it and package in something that'll... travel well?"

He eyed her over the rim of his glasses. "A gift for your travels?"

She nodded, never breaking eye contact. "A wedding gift. The travel is mandatory, I'm afraid."

He ran a hand over her balding scalp thoughtfully. "You're a hunter, no?"

She nodded again.

"I have a crate you can use, but it's full." He pointed his thumb to the curtain behind his back. "On top of a stack in there. If you can get it down for me, it's yours."

In silent agreement she moved behind the counter with him and allowed him to lead her to the storage in the back. He watched as she climbed the stack adjacent to it and pulled the crate he'd pointed out to her, while balancing on what little edge the crate beneath her toes afforded her.

"You must be _strong._ " He marveled at the grace and apparent ease in her movement.

She chuckled as she followed him with the crate back into the store and lowered it steadily to his feet, bending at her knees steeply on either side of the crate. The shape of her leggings hinted of incredible muscular endurance.

"Well a weak hunter wouldn't be able to afford anything from this place."

She was witty. As she circled back around the counter he could swear he saw a twinkle in her eye.

The shop keeper pulled a stack of thick brown paper from under the counter and worked to wrap each piece individually before placing them strategically in the now-empty crate.

"This is a curious wedding gift." He observed aloud. She struck him as the kind of person who was perfectly comfortable in quiet, but he wanted to more about this mysterious woman who frequented his shop.

She raised her brow. "Is it?"

He hadn't anticipated the unsure inflection in her voice, and he quickly moved the recover the conversation, placing another carefully wrapped wolf into the crate.

"Well it's none of _my_ business, after all I don't know the happy couple."

Her eyes moved to the floor. They looked sad.

"I've never been to a wedding before, to be honest. And I guess I... only know the groom personally."

"Never?" He had to admit he was only half surprised at this point. "Well there must've been something special about your friendship that made you pick this piece. Something that will make him look at it years from now on display in his home that will bring him back to a happy memory you shared."

She smiled weakly. "Maybe." He heard her hesitate before adding, "I hope he remembers the happy things because I was... partially responsible for something horrible that happened to him years ago, during the war."

He eyed her curiously, finishing his wrapping of the smallest wolf, a figurine of a pup. Was it an affair? Some unspoken romance between the two? No, she appeared more complicated than that.

"Then I suppose he wouldn't have invited you to such an event if you reminded him of something horrible." He reckoned matter of factly.

"No, I suppose not."

He fetched a lid for the crate and fastened to the to the top with a hammer and nails. She watched his handiwork, somewhat distracted. She was a thinker.

"May I get your name, ma'am?" He queried as she pushed the crate across the counter to her grip.

She blinked. She'd undoubtedly caught the eye of many eligible men and jealous women in town, no doubt, but surely she would trust an old man such as he to give him that much, especially when she spent so much time in his space.

"Celes. I'm Celes Chere." She said simply, gripping the crate tightly to her chest and spinning on her heel to leave. Their eyes met briefly as she pushed the door open with her back and stepped out into the night.

He knew that name from somewhere, and it bothered him.

The shop keeper spent the next several days unvisited by her, flipping through old records from before the war, and it was when he discovered a war journal at an adjacent shop that he found the training record of the General Celes Chere, Magitek Knight of the empire. He sank into his chair, running a hand over his face out of horror.

* * *

Celes slipped out of the carriage exasperated, forgetting how restrictive formal women's clothing was. She swore it was intentional, with delicate dresses and uncomfortable shoes to keep women from running from those who ensnared them.

The driver eyed her pitifully and patted her reassuringly on the back as she regained her composure and her eyes combed the crowd on the lawn of the manor for familiar faces.

She wouldn't normally opt for such finery at this event, but Cyan was a dear friend and only a month prior she received a monogrammed stationary atop a wooden chest. It was from Setzer, and though the gown lacked the extravagancy of the opera gown he'd praised on her, it was nicer than anything she'd been inclined to wear; light and soft silk that flattered her figure. She made a mental note to find him a comparable gift in return and indulged him by silently accepting it.

Setzer was the first familiar face she saw, looking dapper in a black coat that trailed the ground. He greeted her in his usual fashion, a mocking bow with a brush of his lips over her knuckles and a remark about her figure. She laughed and embraced him, grateful for his presence in the midst of her vulnerability. Both were caught off guard by an off-color remark made by Sabin, who embraced the two of them from behind with a flask in both hands.

The ceremony took place under the branches of an elderly sycamore that had survived the horrors of the world of ruin. A portion of it's trunk was charred but the full branches of green and great roots that emerged from the base told her that it had plenty of life in it still, and one day the base that was ash would turn into a scar.

Celes stood for the bridal procession and saw him there, by the aisle across from her several rows behind, though she pretended not to notice him. He was as handsome as ever, perhaps moreso than she remembered. She averted her gaze to the bride, reminding herself that Locke had an uncanny sense of being watched.

The bride was stunning, a young widow from the war that met Cyan through an exchange of letters that shocked Celes initially when she located him. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in white flowers, and a single long scar down her bare arm hinted at some unspoken horror she'd endured.

The bride and groom were joined under the tree and Celes sat, feeling a distinct set of eyes on her.

* * *

Old friends and acquaintances greeted her on the walk to the white tent, and she accepted every offer of champagne that she received, guzzling it gratefully. She knew she'd inevitably run into Locke, but their last interaction hung so heavy on her mind that she preferred to avoid him altogether.

But Locke was bound to approach her in some lighthearted manner, and she was ready to match him when he did.

She'd barely been in her seat for longer than a few moments when he slid down next to her and making a show of his limber form as he did so, like he used to do during the first legs of their journey together. The air was sweet with lavender and hibiscus, and the setting sun made the ceiling of the tent glow with paper lamps.

"Hey." He smiled at her, showing teeth and small crow's feet from the corners of his eyes.

"Hello." She replied, curious about the mischievous look in his eye. They had separated under such somber terms, and she'd spent long hours grieving his absence. But he was here in the flesh, grinning at her as if she was a broad in a tavern who'd just accepted his offer to buy her a drink.

"I, um. I saw you earlier and thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Locke."

She felt her eye twitch. This was some game of his, like she'd seen him play with people multiple times. He'd play the part of a man with any number of motives to outsmart them and pick them apart. What his intent was with her, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't malicious, so she played along.

He shook her hand and she accepted. "I'm Celes."

"Celes?" He repeated back to her, his eyes convincing as though he were trying her name on his lips for the first time.

When _had_ she officially introduced herself to him in the first place?

"Yes." She replied, doing her best to counter his wit, yet unable to shake her familiar growing frustration with him. If this were indeed a game then he was being incredibly convincing.

"Is something wrong?"

His grip on her hand remained. "No. It's just that I've just never met anyone with that name before."

Her breath caught in her throat. She's spent many nights laying awake on the straw beds of country inns, remembering his reactive, warm hands at the curve of her hip and the edges of her scalp.

Was he showing her what their meeting would've consisted of had she met him in another life? Where she was a maiden in fine clothes and he, a man in clean suspenders and a polished white shirt. No dungeons, no death sentences at dawn, no enemies tracking them as her injuries slowed them in a forest as the sun.

"So what do you do?" He asked her, leaning in close as an elbow rested on the cloth of the table.

She bit once already that evening, so she bit again. "Nothing, really. I'm of age, so I'm here looking for an eligible man to marry."

His eyes widened slightly. _"Really."_

"M'hm. Yes." She brought the glass od champagne to her lips without breaking eye contact.

There was the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Celes' gaze narrowed.

 _'Got you.'_

But as always, Locke managed to one up her in a game of wit. "You should meet my friend Edgar. He's always on the prowl looking for a pretty bride like you."

She pursed her lips to hide the curl in her lips.

"Are you a friend of the groom or the bride?"

Celes raised an eyebrow at him. "The groom."

" _Hey_! Me too. We used to work together."

Celes opened her mouth to counter but the booming voice of the best man called everyone's attention from the stage where the honored couple sat.

"Ah, that's my call."

"He asked you to give a speech?"

"It was nice meeting you."Locke murmured by her ear as he rose and she shivered.

Celes smiled weakly in return. "Good luck."

Locke was charismatic and boisterous as one would expect from a handsome adventurer. He held his glass firmly, never daring to take a sip in front of the crowd. He recalled memories, some of which Celes was present for and suppressed a chuckle. Some of them were tense, and she'd cast a knowing look at the familiar people seated around the table with her.

He spoke of love like it was a soft thing, delicate and beautiful; but she knew he knew better than that. Love was pretty, yes. But love was messy and complicated but partly merciful and partly cruel. Love was passionate, and love was boring. Love was brash and impulsive, stealing young hearts as quickly as it claimed innocence.

And love was freedom from the cage she'd enclosed herself in.

Locke concluded and toasted the happy couple.

Sabin spoke next, and Locke retreated to the nearest corner of the text, amicably shaking hands and whispering to several men around him. Celes again snapped her eyes to the man speaking. Sabin appeared thinner; apparently life with Edgar at Figaro Castle didn't hone the physique as well as living like a bear in the mountains.

After the speakers concluded, Cyan addressed the crowd himself, donned in the militaristic formalwear from Doma. The band began to play, and Celes adjusted uncomfortably in her seat as people rose to mingle and fetch more drinks.

"May I?"

Her heart hammered and she perspired under the heat of the cluster of bodies that surrounded her. She crossed her arms defensively, nodding at the now empty seat beside her.

"That was a nice speech." She told Locke as he reached to a passing server with a tray of champagne who passed them, removing two glasses from the tray.

"Thanks. I uh," He nodded his thanks to the server who paused for his stealthy grab, "I was _really_ nervous."

She snorted, accepting a glass that he slid over to her. They were a part of the sparse group that remained at the tables while the rest of the guests made their way by the band to dance.

Her stranger- guise faltered under liquid courage. "Since when does talking make you nervous?"

"Am I that transparent?"

Celes cursed mentally. "Ah, no, you just remind me of someone."

Locke brought the glass to his lips, guzzling half of the liquid inside. She found herself mimicking the notion, though she didn't mean to.

"Ex-boyfriend?"

She shrugged. "I don't think I can even call him that."

Locke smirked, gripping the glass tightly in one hand as the other draped over the back of his chain in his laid back posture. "Ah, so a casual fling then?"

Celes rolled her eyes. " _No._ "

"Sounds complicated."

"It was."

They looked at one another for a moment, and Celes feigned ignorance as she watched his brown eyes look to one of her blue ones for a moment, then to the other.

"So, Locke," She cleared her throat, commanding his attention again. "I've told you about myself and my job- or lack thereof, and my intentions in looking for eligible men to court at this wedding, but you never told me about yourself."

He shrugged, visibly pleased with her performance. "I'm looking for someone."

Celes raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Locke sighed, eyes falling to the hem of his suspenders. For the first time that night, he truly looked unsure of himself. The pace of the music quickened, and the crowd was getting unbearably loud, causing them to lean into to one another to hear, his forehead a mere inches from hers.

"Someone I _should_ say I lost, but I'm not sure I ever really had in the first place."

Celes inhaled sharply at his sudden sincerity, but chose to hide beneath her alternate persona instead. To her right, Edgar and Sabin were engaged in a heated discussion and she absentmindedly longed to go and break it up- they both could get much too passionate when they were drinking.

"Have you found her yet?"

"I don't think so. I haven't seen her in a while." He spoke loudly toward the direction of her ear so that if the music were to stop suddenly, it would sound as if he were declaring for the entire room to hear.

"Perhaps she didn't come."

Locke cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow in mock incredulousness. "Are you targeting _me_ , as an eligible bachelor, to your sneaky plot, Miss Celes? I don't have much money, I must warn your your efforts will go unproductive."

Celes shook her head. "I'm only saying that if you haven't seen her here already, you likely never will."

Locke murmured something in response, and when she looked at him questioningly he brought his mouth to her ear, vibrating her ear drum with his voice. "I said, every time I felt like I had her, she got away somehow."

The music slowed and the violins led the melody in a slow, sad tune. Celes attempted to muster a response as she felt Locke take her head and pull her from the chair. She panicked, she wasn't one to dance and with the stranger facade aside he ought to have known that by then, but to her immediate relief she found his destination to be the tent's exit rather than the dance floor.

Celes stooped to remove her shoes, causing him to halt for her as he retained his hold on her hand. She resumed their pace again, allowing him to lead though she pulled her hand from his grip. The night was cool, and she preferred to wrap her arms around herself for warmth as the walked.

"Ah, much better." She observed, referring to both her feet and the sudden lack of sound as they were greeted outside only by the hymn of cicadas and a lone couple who walked the lake opposite them. Locke silently agreed.

"So tell me about this 'not casual not boyfriend' of yours."

The lake outside was lit with more paper lanterns, and the pair paused in front of an aging dock, riddled with rotting wood and green growth. The soles of her feet were likely as filthy as the hem of her dress in the slightly damp dirt.

Celes placed her palms on the top of a pole anchoring what remained of the dock, standing flush with her belly, her hands feeling the pressure of the eroding grains of wood of it's flat top surface.

"He was kind, he saved my life once." She spoke slowly.

"-very romantic." Lock cut in with his observation casually, placing his empty glass on a shorter beam and leaned against the pole where she was perched.

"Yes, very. It was a very romantic situation," She spoke snarkily before adding, "And he was clever, but not as clever as he thought he was."

"No?" His eyes widened a little.

"We traveled for so long. We had a lot of things in common, you see. Certain things that we both had to take care of."

"Sounds like he had a lot of baggage."

Celes laughed, shaking her head as she looked him in the eye. "You don't have any idea."

Locke offered her a small smile, the edge of his fingertips meeting her sever so slightly on the old wood.

"But I did too. There was a lot happening, so one day I took it upon myself to end it all. And we got separated."

"And?"

"And one day I woke up believing I was the only person alive in the world. Other than my... father."

Locke's hand slid over hers. Even on his worst day it wasn't like him to be hesitant. They stood across the pole from one another, her dress rustling against her body in the breeze by the water.

She inhaled deeply, cursing herself so being so damned nervous to continue. But under the guise of a stranger, she felt more comfortable telling Locke the story.

"We lived for a few months and I adapted to the idea of losing that man. A part of me wished that my whole life had been that way, since my childhood. Because I'd never been so happy."

Locke looked at her intently, eyes narrowed, but gentle.

"You see, my father wasn't my real father, but he filled that role in my childhood memories. I remember... experiments and vivid nightmares, mind games from Imperial officials who wanted to 'study' me, and lustful eyes from men who were supposed to protect or serve under me. And my father was the one who knew of that, and understood me."

"I had no idea." Locke murmured.

"So one night, I found that he had died of natural causes. I covered him in my bathrobe and dragged him to the nearest ledge and pushed him over the cliff into the ocean. The dawn was settling in, and I thought I was the last living person. So I decided to climb a cliff."

Locke's fingers intertwined with hers over the coarse rotting grains of wood, his eyes hardened.

"I walked a path I knew others had taken, but I heard something that sounded like a wounded animal, and I got sidetracked and climbed from the side. A part of me didn't mind if I slipped and fell, because the outcome would be the same as the outcome I desired. I was still only wearing my nightgown, and the water in the air was so _cold,_ but I didn't care."

She blinked back tears.

"I found an animal- a young mountain goat, ensnared in fishing net. I freed it and it ran from me, so I continued climbing until I reached the summit."

"Why didn't you just jump?" Locke cut her off again, looking at her calmly though she could tell his heart was hammering so fast. He was angry. Or sad. She wasn't sure.

"Well, I did." She told him, her eyes never faltering from her gaze on his.

"I only jumped because I wanted to, when I reached the top of the cliff. I was sure that I would end my life, because I never wanted to be born in the first place and at that time it seemed like the next best thing."

" _Celes."_

"It's the truth."

His hand ghosted over hers, hesitant to make contact again. "So what happened?"

"I woke up on the beach below," She shrugged. "I missed the rocks completely. I must've fallen into the water and ended up washed ashore."

Tears burned in her eyes at the memory. "I was angry. I was _so_ angry. Because I didn't want to be alive anymore, and there I was. But then I saw a bird with a scrap from _your_ bandana on it's leg."

"How did you know it was mine?" Locke murmured incredulously.

Her response was irritable. "I'd know that stupid thing anywhere."

A grin longed to ghost across his features, withheld only by the solemn manner of the the conversation.

"How do you think that all happened?" Locke asked her, eyes demanding an explanation hers.

"I-I don't know." Celes stammered, looking up towards the night sky for the more words she hadn't been couragous enough to express previously.

"Perhaps I was so inwardly scared without realizing, and I didn't realize it until I jumped."

"The way you tell it, it seems like you were pretty calm about it all. Determined, even."

Celes exhaled sharply, blinking back more tears. "How is it that after all this time you've failed to acknowledge me as the coward that I am?"

Locke tenderly reached to the side of her face, where a section of her hair had fallen loose. He rested an elbow upon the top of the old wooden anchor pole between them, his rolled up sleeve serving as a barrier against the degraded splintering surface.

"Celes," He half whispered, pushing the loose lock behind her ear and running a stray finger back down the lobe. "You're alotta things. Some good, some bad. Like me. But I've never thought of you as a coward."

The stars in the sky glimmered all around them from their reflection cast upon the lake, sending specks of light from both above and from below where the water lapped just inches from their feet.

Celes shook her head, turning from his hand slightly as she pushed moisture from her eye. "Then what could've happened?"

Locke shrugged. "Magic maybe? Weren't you... 'enhanced' to outlive us all?"

Celes blinked several times. Her magic was gone, and she felt physically and mentally drained by it all. She felt lonelier, weaker, and above all, more certain that she would in fact die if she decided to jump from a cliff again.

"You're not a coward Celes." Locke reiterated, offering her a small smile.

"What do you make of all this then?"

Locke's hand had moved from her face and rested by her fingers. He leaned into her, pressing on his elbow more firmly into the wood.

"I think... I'm really lucky you're still here."

She snorted. "That's all?"

His smile broadened, brown eyes reflecting light at her. "Well, yeah. You're right here in front of me, right? That's all the matters." He looked at her sheepishly. "I do have one question though."

"Oh?"

"What did Kefka say to you? Right before you... he died?"

* * *

 _He was the last piece of her past, and from where she stood, watching him writhe in pain, she felt pain too._

" _What do you think you've found?" He gasped, looking at her with his eyes wide and blood pooling in his mouth, "Here in this dying world?"_

 _She understood where he came from. He was like her, just less fortunate. His life was taken too soon, when he was on the hilt of adolescence and craving validation._

" _Why do you build knowing destruction is inevitable?"_

 _He was right. They weren't so different; she was simply fortunate enough to be a part of the updated Magitek program, and was adored by Cid so that she felt some sort of loving presence._

" _Why do you yearn to live, knowing all things must die?_

 _She thought of the island, and only then, realized that he was wrong._

* * *

"Valid questions." Locke summarized.

The shift in tempo of the music caused a rush of drunken wedding attendees to spill from the tent for fresh air. Celes defensively crossed her arms and stepped away in a momentary rush of awareness when she saw faces she'd recognized. Locke caught her by the wrist and pulled her back to him, away from the people, and their only escape happened to be several paces to the rotting dock that groaned under their feet.

"So what did you tell him?" Locke asked, gripping her hands in his.

Celes closed her eyes for a moment. She remembered the stream of light the flooded her prison cell when he entered, nights spent in near silence under the stars as he quietly named constellations until she dosed beside him, the heat of their lovemaking and the occasional glance she'd catch him stealing in her direction when their friendship had been dampened by the complexities of the world around them.

Celes looked to the lake again, grateful for his unspoken understanding of her tendency to avoid eye contact.

"I told him that I've met someone who accepts me as I am."

His gripped maintained, he attempted to pull her closer to him. She dug her heels in further where she stood. The pressure of his grip tightened. She gave in, parting her lips and leaning towards him as his lips brushed against hers.

* * *

She figured she owed him one dance- of that she could convince herself, pulling him in to the wedding tent and under the dimming lights of the paper lanterns. He led the way, as was customary for a man and for someone who was much more versed in the the world of dance than she was. He grasped her hand in his and rested the other on her waist, their foreheads against one another as sweat gathered, unflattering and sticky, willing her to abandon what awareness she had for her physical appearance.

He raised a hand over her head and twirled her. "You're going to stay here, right? No more cliff jumping?"

Celes laughed at the light hearted manner in which he pressed the words into her ear. "No more. I promise."

* * *

A/N: Okay, I was on the fence but I definitely can't leave it here! My apologies for the delay- I moved across country for my next contract and then took a much needed weeklong vacation! Expect a final chapter+/and/or epilogue soon.

This chapter was inspired by the ending episode of "The Leftovers" for those who are interested- it's a great HBO show about loss and longing. It's by far the longest chapter I've ever written, and several glasses of wine and/or sake may have been involved after I scrapped the first draft entirely- it was much too angsty and it was important to me that I nail this one above all!

Thank you for reading this far. Thank you to all those who have/will review(ed). This whole thing started on a whim from my love for this couple when I finally jumped onboard with playing this game and became a close observation of their relationship as well as myself as a human being and the lives of others around me.


	23. Epilogue: In Spring

**The Stranger**

 **Epilogue: In Spring**

* * *

She walked beside him everywhere. They hopped vessels from nearly every port town that was left, sleeping beside one another in inns and under trees, in caves by a fire and even in stables when they were desperate enough. They traveled backto her flat in Jidoor just in time so that she received the 'thank you' letter from Cyan for the wedding present.

She packed her life over the past few years into boxes, piling them by the door. Being on the road with Locke no longer warranted a permanent residence. He watched her quietly from her small bed, hands clasped behind his head.

"Most gentlemen would help."

He shrugged. "I don't know where anything goes."

"You're just eye candy then." Celes mused, stacking the last of the crates into pile before double checking the latch on the door before turning back to him.

"Some of the soldiers back at Vector said I was only your play thing." He told her, feigning sorrow in his words.

Celes laughed at the notion. It was funny because she'd heard rumors like that about them herself.

She unbuttoned her top slowly, grateful for the warmth of the fireplace against her bare skin in the winter months. Locke smirked back at her, and he pushed himself upright so that he sat over the edge of the bed, easing his boots off with either foot, never daring to take his eyes off of her.

Snow fell outside, casting an even layered steam on the single window with it's contrast of the warmth of the inside. Celes bent down to loosen the ties on her own boots, well aware of her cleavage in his view.

Sweat from the labor of packing had gathered over her forehead and her chest, and when she walked to him further loosening her blouse, he reached for her and she halted. She continued only when he was still and she could tell it was torture for him. But when she was finally undressed and straddled his lap he was hardly complaining, and the fog on the window had damn near made it opaque.

* * *

They approached Narshe from the west, traveling an unfamiliar path through the mountains that were capped in snow. And when the city that was mostly unchanged in layout from Kefka's calamity came into view, Celes threw her pack down and sat upon it, waiting to Locke to follow.

He halted, his lean muscular figure covered in thick animal skins and face almost completely shrouded by a scarf. His eyes squinted at hers harshly. "We're almost there."

Celes nodded, reaching with a mittoned hand for her own canteen to chug the last of the water that hadn't turned to ice.

"I know. I just need a minute."

Locke followed suit and set his pack in front of her, seating himself so that he faced her with his elbows settled somewhere on top of his knees.

"Out of breath, huh?" He kicked nudged her leg with his foot teasingly.

Celes swallowed the last of the water and smiled at him weakly before pulling her own scarf back up over her mouth for warmth.

The last time they had such a view of the town he presented her with a proposition: the chance to be all in for The Returners or to leave on her own accord, and not run the risk of meddling in the Empire's affairs any longer. She chose to follow him. And truthfully, she'd originally stopped at that point that day not to simply rest for a moment and reminisce, but because she had a proposition for him herself. A situation had come up, and she wanted to use that spot as a means to bring it to his attention.

But she didn't. They sat for a moment in silence until the idea of a warm bed by a fire was all too much, and she stood again to pull her pack over her shoulders, bending her knees for stability under the weight as he did the same.

* * *

Narshe remained the sleepy little mining town it always was, despite the increasing heavy snows of winter that deterred it's residents from venturing very far. The innkeeper was happy to have customers and despite his insistence that they stay for free when they pulled back their scarves he recognized their faces, Locke slipped him a bag of GP over the counter when he wasn't looking.

They made their way to the room and the innkeeper's son fussed from behind them, pulling the packs from their shoulders and assisting them in removing their snow gear. He rushed to bring hot water into their bathtub as she and Locke started a fire in the fireplace, a longstanding tradition for them from all of their travels.

"Mog isn't far." Celes spoke, noting the stiffness in her mouth from the cold as she spoke. "We should see him while we're in the area."

Locke snorted. "Unless Mog agrees to meet us here, I don't think that's happening."

Steam drifted over them from the bathtub behind the screen. The innkeeper's son appeared from behind it, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Should be good to go in a few minutes. It's still pretty hot right now. Anything else?"

They declined and watched him leave, taking the audible _click_ of the door as it locked as a sign that they could safely finish undressing.

Celes closed her eyes for a moment. The sudden shift in temperature extremes made her mind hazy and her vision blurry.

"You okay?"

She nodded, feigning enthusiasm as she removed her gloves and pulled her top over her head.

Waves of nausea came over her and she tried to think of something else. It was worst in the mornings, when she'd leave Locke at camp and venture by herself to relieve herself by vomiting or dry heaving. She feared she was becoming ill for the first time in years, and then when her monthly cycle was off, she feared much worse.

"Yes, I'm fine." She answered in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. Her body was nearly bare now and Locke eyed her skeptically, wordlessly moving behind her to unfasten her undergarments.

The water was still hot to the touch but they eased into it slowly, eyeing each other from either side of the wooden tub as then dipped their feet in first. Locke splashed at her and she shrieked, shielding her head and soberly commanding him to not repeat the action. She hadn't realized how cold her skin had been until she eased her body completely into the water.

Locke was settled first, urging her in as she slowly followed suit. His calloused hands guided her shoulders gently so that her back was eventually joined with his chest. He felt smooth against her under the water.

His voice was soft against her ears that were dulled from the chill, and she sat still as his hands broke the surface of the water from behind her head, gingerly tucking her hair behind her ears and pulling her scalp downward by her hair to submerge all the flaxen strands under the water. She breathed slow, willing her body to accommodate to the hot temperature.

"You know, when I first met you, I thought your hair was beautiful. I think that was the first thing I loved about you."

Celes smiled when he gently kissed her forehead and she pulled the back of her head from the water again.

"Not my magic or my skill? It wasn't easy fighting in the basement without a weapon, you know."

"Ah," Locke chuckled, his knees tensed on either side of her body, " _Especially_ because of your magic and your skill."

Celes rolled her eyes. It didn't matter where they were in the world, or the amount of devastation, everything seemed effortless as long as she had these nights with Locke. His charms consoled her and his touch took her to a comforting place from some childhood dream.

She felt his hands work through her hair, massaging a bar of soap through the tangles. She leaned forward, suddenly reminded of the situation looming in the depths of her belly, a situation she'd been in denial of for some time, but at the sight of the slight bulge over the surface of her normally flat abdomen she'd have to face the truth sooner or later.

Locke continued to massage her hair in all its length as he'd done so many times before.

She should've been wiser, knowing that it would happen soon enough. Gestahl himself had alluded to her fertility and these days she had intercourse with Locke on a near nightly basis.

The warmth of the water comforted her, granting her the illusion that she was protected within a womb of her own, and Locke's hands moved over her soothingly, sliding from her shoulders down her arms, and dipping into the water to draw up palm-sized pools of water that spilled over her shoulders again.

She turned around to face him, and water splashed over the sides onto the hardwood floor and rocked against the sides of the tub from the movement. She straddled him, running her hands over his face. Water trickled in a stream from her fingers to the fine crevices on either side of his nose and he closed his eyes under her touch.

She looked down at him: still, blissful, and most of all, warm. She opened her mouth to say something but the words were too stubborn.

Locke's eyes opened, revealing brown irises looking back at her.

"Talk to me." He told her softly.

She bit her lip. Her upbringing by the Empire did little to prepare her for how people discussed such things; how they were received, and how they were executed.

"I think I'm pregnant, Locke."

His eyes widened. _"What?"_

He pushed her backwards by the shoulders so that he sat upright in the tub. Celes said nothing, lookin down at her figure in the translucent water that was cloudy with steam and soap.

"Are you _sure?_ " He sputtered, shaking her frame a little as if to emphasize the gravity of the question. "How long did you know? How _long_ have you known?"

"I-I'm not sure. I haven't been certain for a while." She looked back at him. He sank backwards again, hands releasing their grip on her to run through his hair.

"Oh, man." Locke breathed. His eyes darted around the room in a moment of clarity. "What are we _doing_ here?!"

Celes' forehead wrinkled as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?"

"We can't be out here when you're pregnant! We should be somewhere warm with plenty of food and you need to see a _doctor!_ "

Celes shrugged. "There's a doctor here, isn't there?"

His open hands moved with his words, punctuating his panic. "That's not the point!"

"I didn't think about that." Celes replied sadly, "To be honest I avoided thinking about it at all as much as I could."

His face softened and he grabbed her by the shoulders again, softer this time.

"Hey," He said, "You're going to be okay."

Celes smiled back at him weakly. "I know."

They rose from the water several minutes later, wrapped in towels. She wasn't exactly self conscious in front of Locke, but when his eyes trailed to her abdomen, visibly critiquing it in his mind, she covered it as fast as she could with a night shirt.

They were quiet for the most of the night, and later when they lay together in one of the small bunk beds Locke embraced her from behind, burrowing his face in her damp hair.

"Let's go see that doctor tomorrow. And when the storm clears we'll head down into the valley."

Celes opened her eyes, staring into the darkness at the dark wood paneling of the wall facing them.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I... wasn't sure what people normally do in situations like this."

Locke snorted and propped his head up on his elbow when she turned to face him.

"They didn't teach you that in Vector?" He teased.

She smiled and shook her head. "Mmm. No."

"Aw, well, you hit the jackpot then because I know _all_ about pregnancy."

"Seriously?" Her face fell. He was full of surprises.

"No, not even close." He laughed, "But back in my days in Kohlingen there was a big baby boom. _Everybody_ was getting pregnant. So I know some things I guess."

"You seem happy about this." Celes observed, running a finger down the bridge of his nose.

"I _am_ happy." He replied, resting a hand on the curve of her waist, his thumb extending towards her belly. "Hell, I'm _excited._ "

"Excited?" She repeated skeptically.

"Yeah I mean, I was freaked out before but it's only fitting isn't it?"

"What is?"

Locke's hand slid from her waist to her chin, tilting it upward. "You saved this world, Celes. I mean it's only fitting that you get to be a part of the next generation."

"Where will we live?" Celes questioned him pragmatically, "What will we do?"

"We'll figure it out."

* * *

She was further along than she'd originally believed, as the doctor estimated she only had six months before labor. Locke coaxed her down the mountain pain several days later, insisting she do as little as possible when they encountered beasts. She felt useless without her magic, but managed a swing of her sword when necessary, much to Locke's dismay.

They crossed the sea to Doma, in the new settlement that had sprung up under Cyan's protection. And though they'd been intent on heading further south, they stayed put as the pregnancy was progressing quickly, making her belly swell so that her leggings and tops would no longer fit properly. She longed to settle somewhere untouched by the Empire's greed, but it became apparent that that would be impossible in the ruined world.

Cyan greeted them with open arms. By day she and Locke built their house from the ruins of an old one, and by night they'd eat around Cyan's table with his wife and his new child, swaddled tightly and secured by a linen to her chest that went around around her shoulder.

"You'll want one of these, Celes," The younger woman told her, and Celes smiled politely in return, thinking there was no way in hell she would be able to eat her dinner like that.

Once the thatched roof went up they slept in their bedroom on the second floor for the first time. The night was cold as its air crept through the cracks of the unfinished walls and the broken glass of the windows, but Celes found warmth in Locke's body pressed against her own.

Word spread to her old allies and Sabin visited to help finish the home in time for the birth, though he insisted that he only came to see Celes "get fat", which earned him a swift shot to the shoulder that gave her a satisfactory yelp from the larger man.

Terra knocked on the door one day and Celes answered.

"I came as soon as I heard." The younger girl huffed, and embraced Celes as hard as she could. She slept every night in the nursery on a cot after she stayed all night out on the town with Sabin.

Setzer never saw her, but came in the night to leave a gold embossed bassinet at their door. It had no note, but from the adornments of blue in the linens of the blankets and the plush toys that hung from the hood, Celes knew it was from him; it was just his taste. The gold of the structure made it heavy for Locke to carry up the stairs by himself, causing him to grunt and sway as he did so and she was nervous that he'd fall and injure himself. She then wondered if that was Setzer's intent all along.

Cid was born in a bath of sweat and blood, in their bed lined with towels. The midwife was one of the last few living in the world, and she arrived only two nights after Cyan had sent for her. Celes had little coaching or preparation for childbirth, and was thus unprepared for the hours of misery and pain that preceeded the birth, though when the midwife calmly pulled the child from her, she had to admit he looked how she felt: screaming, pink, swollen, and bloody.

Terra and the midwife cleaned the baby and worked to secure the afterbirth as Locke squeezed her hand and kissed her on the mouth. Men weren't traditionally invited into the room for births but they lacked tradition in so many facets of their lives that it hardly seemed to matter.

Celes didn't immediately feel the intense bond that she was told mothers feel for their children, but after passing him around to their friends for several hours they retreated to their bed with the child as she coaxed him into feeding from her breast. She felt it sometime after that.

Several months after the birth, she joined Locke in the field outside their house at night. It'd been damn near a year since she held a sword, and Terra urged her to go while she slept in Cid's room with him.

They sparred in the dim light of the half moon. She was sluggish, as she was heavier than she was used to being and her breasts were still productive. She was irritated that he had the upper hand and it pushed her to the point of knocking one of his knives from his hand and he hopped back from her, reaching to unsheath another when she lunged on him. He was seemingly knocked off balance though a familiar impish glint in his eye as he fell told her that he somewhat allowed it to happen.

Perhaps it was the way the silvery light of the moon and how it reflected off his features, but as she straddled him with her knees to his armpits she pulled her top off over her shoulders, breathing hard from the exercise, rising and falling with the quickness in his breaths under her. He relinquished his knives and moved gloved hands to her chest instead, where her breasts hung heavy and tender.

* * *

As Cid's limbs plumped and grew strong enough for him to walk and balance, people noted that he could pass as only being hers, with shoulder-length golden blonde ringlets and piercing blue eyes. What he lacked in his father's appearance he made up for in his personality, always smiling and aiming to please, but quick to take off the moment she turned her head. She'd call for him when he disappeared and find him in the strangest of places: crying with his head stuck under the banister of the stairs, hiding on a shelf over the front door, and sleeping under a tree in the neighbor's orchard.

She married Locke four Springs after Cid's birth in the town square of Doma, wearing the dress Setzer had gifted her for Cyan's wedding years before.

To her surprise Setzer did come, hugging her slowly after the ceremony with a lingering hold on her waist.

"I'm glad you came." She smiled up at him.

"Of course," He winked at her, "I got a bit confused, you see. Usually people get married _before_ they have a toddler."

* * *

The sun began to set as the town prepped itself for the evening festivities. Ushered away from her attempts to help, Celes walked to the hill where children slid down in sleds during the winter snows. But with the newly opened flower buds of Spring, the children ran and rolled down the lush green grass instead. Cid was in the middle of the group, running as fast as his little legs could carry him, wearing suspenders that matched Locke's the the pant legs rolled up.

Locke slid onto the grass next to her, reaching his arm around her shoulders to pull her to him.

"Guess we're not gonna be living in sin anymore, huh?"

Celes chuckled. They _were_ somewhat of a scandal when they first moved to town, though when their identities where revealed the townsfolk seemed far more accepting.

"He doesn't have shoes on." She noted, motioning to their son, "Where are his shoes?"

"Ahh, he probably just left them by a table somewhere." Locke shrugged, squeezing her shoulder. "They'll turn up."

Celes looked at her new husband in amusement. "Were you like that?"

"Yeah. That's how I know they'll turn up. They always do."

Cid shrieked as he successfully outran an older boy to the top of the hill, only to throw himself onto the ground to roll back down, little hands covering his eyes.

Celes blinked back tears. The most stressful thing about her motherhood was the responsibility. A responsibility that had always been ultimately expected of her, yet she had little direction to succeed.

The world was full of lost children, herself included. Kefka was another one. How could Cid yell with joy and laugh as he tumbled down a hill that had once witnessed the sight of hundreds of villagers writhing in the streets as they died from poisoning, under a machine that she herself contributed to? How could he sing and dance barefoot on the soil when it may as well have been someone's grave?

How many children died at her own hands?

"The best thing about being barefoot," Locke started again, oblivious to her despair, "Is the raw feeling of the dirt under you, you know? It feels to smooth and soft. And the grass just smells so much stronger. It's one of the biggest smells of my childhood."

Celes blinked, eyes full of emotion.

"I never smelled grass as a child." She said slowly, "But it seems like that would be nice."

Cid tumbled to the bottom, laughter bubbling up from within. He spotted his parents and waved before yelling, "Watch me!"

Celes nodded and waved back at him, and he sprinted clumsily up the hill again. She noted the coolness of her bare heel in the grass. Locke was right. She thought of the baby goat caught on the cliffside as she climbed and struggled to free it.

She watched tearfully as he ran.

* * *

A/N: And that's the end! Thanks for all the support! I never thought I'd write about Celes becoming a mother but here we are! I hope I did her character justice.

If you can't tell I'm a huge Celes/Locke fan and wasn't satisfied with the little amount of fics with them out there, so I wanted to make a contribution of my own! I do not know if this will be my last fic for this fandom, but I'll probably take a break and write for other fandoms for a bit.


End file.
